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was born in Edinburgh, November /J, 
/<S'5o, and after being called to the bar, 
turned to literature as a profession. In 
i88g he settled at Samoa, where he died 
on December 4, 1894. This boof^ was 
first published in 1886. 

Printed in Great Britain 

Mr. Hyde clubbed him to the earth. 

Page 88 




R. L. 




It's ill to loose the bands that God decreed to hind j 
Still will we be the children of the heather and the wind. 
Far away from home, O it's still for you and me 
That the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie. 


MANY things conspire to make the story of 
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde one of the most 
remarkable, of not the most remarkable of 
all the writings of Robert Louis Stevenson. 
Few readers need to be reminded of the 
triumph of will over physical weakness 
which Stevenson achieved in many of his 
writings. None of them is a greater 
monument of that triumph than this. At 
Skerryvore in Bournemouth, Stevenson had 
to be kept in bed and silent, righting for his 
life against horrible attacks of haemorrhage. 
All communication was by slate and pencil, 
and in the hushed and darkened room it 

was necessary to keep the patient solitary 



and to refuse him the visits of his friends. 
It would be difficult to conceive of a more 
impossible occasion for the production of 
great literature. In the challenge of such 
illness to the spirit there is nothing to 
inspire, everything to depress. Yet out 
of this extraordinary net of circumstances 
there came one of the greatest stories in 
the world. It is in a sense classic, like 
the main ideas and plots of Shakespeare. 
It has already been translated into many 
tongues, and it is safe to say that long after 
most of Stevenson's works have been for- 
gotten, this one will be remembered and 
quoted by generations yet unborn. 

Another peculiarity of this story is its 
origin in the author's dreams. In his own 
well-known phrase, he has acknowledged 
his debt for it to his ' Brownies ' ; and the 


story of that, night when he received this 
amazing gift from dreamland, and of the 
next three days when he wrote thirty 
thousand words almost without pausing, 
is one of the most startling among the 
curiosities of literature. The other dream 
child of Stevenson's fancy is Olalla. In 
that sad and fascinating tale there is the 
glamour of things mysterious, and the sug- 
gestion of black magic hovering about the 
foreign landscape and offering the exact 
atmosphere for things sinister and illicit. 
It has the mingled beauty and terror that 
cling about the emergence of our vaunted 
human nature from its brute inheritance. 
Jekyll and Hyde is very different. The 
Brownies appear to have been sporting with 
jangled nightmares of chess problems and 
other matters which harry the over-excited 


brain and chase it even into the land of 
sleep. Suddenly this emerged. 

The third peculiarity of the story is 
the destruction of its first copy. Im- 
mediately upon finishing it, the author 
poured it forth upon his best-beloved 
collaborators and critics. One can imagine 
the overwhelming effect of this, even upon 
so well-balanced a mind as that of Mrs. 
Stevenson. Yet her critical judgment was 
not swept away. Something was wrong, 
and she was quick to detect it. The purpose 
of the work had been undoubtedly allegor- 
ical ; but the novelist in Stevenson had 
outrun the preacher, and the allegory had 
tailed off into something that was but a 
brilliant short story. One cannot wonder 
if, at first, he violently rebelled. On re- 
consideration, he found that his wife's view 


of the matter was absolutely true, and then, 
to her horror, he flung the entire manuscript 
into the fire. One remembers Newton *s 
immortal dog Diamond, and the tragedy 
of Mill's housemaid who destroyed Car- 
lyle's priceless manuscript of the French 
Revolution. This case was different from 
these. Stevenson entirely capitulated to the 
rights of the allegory, and in order that 
these might be preserved he destroyed all 
that he had done, lest the written manu- 
script should lure him back to the short 
story. Three more days of unbroken toil, 
and the tale, as we now possess it, ended 
its adventures and was ready for the 

It is a tale of the supernatural, and that 
is not, as a rule, Stevenson's strongest line. 
There is an indefinable something that 


separates his spirit from the world of magic 
or of demons. Perhaps it is his indestruct- 
ible common sense and his vivid interest in 
the things of the actual world. The horror 
of his supernatural work is very great, and 
it is wonderfully sustained in Tod Lapraik 
and Thrawn Janet: yet there is generally 
some little touch of actual matter of fact 
which renders the situation precarious. In 
Jekyll and Hyde there is the powder and the 
liquor which positively smell of the chemist's 
shop. Had it been possible by any means 
to get rid of these, and by some mystic spell 
to accomplish the transformation, the story 
would have gained a safer foothold in the 
spectral world. Yet, on the other hand, 
any such device would have taken it 
out of the actual life of modern men, 
and its hold on that was more important 


for its real purpose than the mere point of 

In this extraordinary tale, the Brownies 
had seized upon an idea, and that idea 
haunted the writer. When first we meet 
those quite ordinary-looking persons, Mr. 
Utterson and Mr. Enfield, we little dream 
where they are going to lead us. All we 
know is that it will be among the streets 
and houses, of London in 1886. Gradually 
the idea of the double personality emerges, 
revealing itself at first by hints, and then 
afterwards in broad and clear confessions. 
Eight years earlier, in collaboration with 
Mr. Henley, Stevenson had written his 
play of Deacon Brodie. It was a dramatisa- 
tion of the life of a man who, by day, 
was a respectable and eminent citizen of 
Edinburgh, while, by night, dressed in 


appropriate costume, he was a clever and 
audacious burgler. There are many other 
proofs that the idea of the double life haunted 
Stevenson's imagination. One finds it in 
such borderland conceptions as Olalla^ in 
such dramatic realisations of the heart of 
murderers as Markheim, and in such psy- 
chological studies as that of the missionary 
in The Ebb Tide. 

But it was not from the dramatic and 
artistic point of view alone that this concep- 
tion took such powerful hold upon Steven- 
son. All his life long he had much trouble 
with his conscience, as he confesses humor- 
ously in one of his poems in Scots. He 
could treat his conscience as cavalierly as 
most men : but, like all the rest of us, he could 
neither implicitly obey it nor effectively 
silence it. No one profeeses that his life 


was blameless of youthful excess, and no 
fair judge can deny that his reactions to- 
wards nobler things were as genuine and 
honest as the. excesses had been. It is 
imposs ble to imagine what good purpose 
can be served by morbid curiosity as to the 
detail of his wild oats. Every man born 
has found, in one direction or another, a law 
in his members warring against the law of 
his mind. Some people, like Stevenson, 
have natures more sensitive, violent, and 
daring than the rest ; but that is only a 
matter of degree and not of kind. That 
Jekyll and Hyde has strong personal value 
for its author is evident from his allusion in 
a letter to Mr. Low, ; I send you herewith 
a Gothic gnome for your Greek nymph ; 
but the gnome is interesting, I think, and 
he came out of a deep mine, where he 


guards the fountain of tears." The enor- 
mous and unique and immediate popularity 
of this volume shows its appeal to the 
general conscience of mankind, and the 
accuracy of its description of universal 

There is a terrific passage in the Epistle 
to the Romans in which the two-fold nature 
of man is depicted in the most lurid words. 
It is questionable if anything that has been 
written since has expressed Paul's meaning 
so powerfully and vividly as the story of 
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Yet the phenom- 
enon is as old as man, and the cry is 
not less ancient. Long before Paul wrote 
his epistle Balaam had been fascinated 
alternately by good and evil, and Ovid had 
confessed that while he approved the better 
way he followed the worse. Apart from 


morals altogether, many modern parallels 
have puzzled psychologists. The extra- 
ordinary cases quoted by the late Professor 
William James, the curious duality of 
Fiona Macleod and her author, and other 
such instances old and new, will occur to 
every reader. In Bunyan's Grace Abounding 
and in his Christian's adventures in the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, we recognise 
the same condition. Browning, in his 
Ned Bratts, has taken up the idea from 
Bunyan, and portrayed, in his roughest and 
most vernacular, a man demanding to be 
hanged while his good self was dominant, 
lest, being spared, the bad man of him 
should get the mastery again. These are 
reinforced by many instances of the moral 
collapses of good men, and by the times of 
obsession which plague us all when we 


find ourselves playing sedulous ape to two 
moralities. The psychological explanation 
of this in ancient times was to be found in 
evil spirits or in the Manichsean doctrine 
of the inherent evil of matter. Of late years 
the language in which the phenomenon has 
been described would seem to indicate the 
view that within each apparent personality 
there reside two real and separate personal- 
ities, or it may be more than two. On this 
view a man may be two different persons 
confined within one body. As we think of 
the violent contrasts of character which our 
lives exhibit, we can hardly wonder at so 
simple although so fantastic an explanation, 
especially as the bad man in us often gets 
us into situations which the good man has 
to reckon with and pay for. 

Really, however, this double pertonality 


13 but a metaphorical way of speaking. 
When we use it we do not mean personalities, 
but groups of emotions, moods, likings, ajid 
desires behind which one personality sits, 
choosing and arranging which groups shall 
dominate us, or sometimes going down 
before the attack of one group or another. 
It will be noticed that in the story of 
Jekyll and Hyde memory and choice are 
continuous; and the duality is entirely 
voluntary and not necessary. The will 
is the essence of the person, after all is 
said. There are many causes which explain 
the multiple so-called personalities within a 
man. There is the long evolution of the 
species, and the fact that fragments of a very 
remote past and of primitive instincts of the 
brute seem to be still capable of leaping 
up into conscious life. There is also our 


human heredity, and the recurrence of 
ancestral traits of character which crop up 
unexpectedly in descendants. There are 
purely physical causes, such as the condition 
of one's nerves, or the effect of the weather 
or of illness. There are also environ- 
mental conditions, and it is undoubted that 
some people can call up all the best that is 
in us, while others seem to raise the worst. 
Besides all this, no doubt, the responsibility 
for multiple personality is largely our own. 
Habits of thinking that we have cherished 
or suppressed, uncontrolled impulses which 
we have been too lazy to direct, these 
and many other things help to explain the 

It is a pitiful condition in many ways. 
Men used to bkme the Devil for it, but the 
Devil as an excuse is heavily overworked. 


After all, each of us knows that he himself 
is the captain of the ship, and that it is his 
business and not the Devil's to take com- 
mand. Stevenson saw that, in the human 
world, there was much temptation to play 
with this dangerous psychological faculty 
for the sake of some depraved enjoyment 
or excitement which it might give ; and 
he portrayed, in all its nakedness, the 
sheer horror of the thing. He laid special 
emphasis upon that period in the process 
when recovery becomes more and more 
difficult and ceases to be a matter of will, 
and when the vicious side of a man, chosen 
at first for his own purposes, fastens itself 
in him, claws and beak, until it seems to 
become his only self. 

It is noteworthy that Stevenson does not 
append a moral to his allegory. There was, 


indeed, no need to do that All who have 
eyes to see can perceive, as the horror grows, 
one of the supreme dangers of life. One 
thing at least is obvious. It is that, for all 
men, so long as they have not entirely 
capitulated, it is possible to make ' some 
brave output of the will." and bid defiance 
to any such ghastly process within them. 
Whatever be the ultimate explanation of 
this recondite condition, it is certain that 
there is no need to lie down under it and in 
moral fatalism accept it as inevitable. The 
self you choose to-day, and not the self you 
chose yesterday, is the fate of to-morrow. 



















MR. UTTERSON the lawyer was a man 
of .a rugged countenance, that was 
never lighted by a smile ; cold, scanty 
and embarrassed in discourse ; back- 
ward in sentiment ; lean, long, dusty, 
dreary, and yet somehow lovable. At 
friendly meetings, and when the wine 
was to his taste, something eminently 
human beaconed from his eye ; some- 
thing indeed which never found its way 
into his talk, but which spoke not only 
in these silent symbols of the after- 
dinner face, but more often and loudly 
in the acts of his life. He was austere 

with himself; drank gin when he was 



alone, to mortify a taste for vintages ; 
and though he enjoyed the theatre, had 
not crossed the doors of one for twenty 
years. But he had an approved toler- 
ance for others ; sometimes wondering, 
almost with envy, at the high pressure 
of spirits involved in their misdeeds ; 
and in any extremity inclined to help 
rather than to reprove. ; I incline to 
Cain's heresy," he used to say quaintly : 
" I let my brother go to the devil in his 
own way." In this character, it was 
frequently his fortune to be the last 
reputable acquaintance and the last 
good influence in the lives of down- 
going men. And to such as these, so 


long as they came about his chambers, 
he never marked a shade of change in 
his demeanour. 


No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. 
Utterson ; for he was undemonstrative 
at the best, and even his friendships 
seemed to be founded in a similar 
catholicity of good -nature. It is the 
mark of a modest man to accept his 
friendly circle ready made from the 
hands of opportunity ; and that was 
the lawyer's way. His friends were 
those of his own blood, or those whom 
he had known the longest ; his affec- 
tions, like ivy, were the growth of time, 
they implied no aptness in the object. 
Hence, no doubt, the bond that united 
him to Mr. Richard Enfield, his distant 
kinsman, the well-known man about 
town. It was a nut to crack for many, 
what these two could see in each other, 
or what subject they could find in 


common. It was reported by those 
who encountered them in their Sunday 
walks, that they said nothing, looked 
singularly dull, and would hail with 
obvious relief the appearance of a friend. 
For all that, the two men put the 
greatest store by these excursions, 
counted them the chief jewel of each 
week, and not only set aside occasions 
of pleasure, but even resisted the calls 
of business, that they might enjoy them 

It chanced on one of these rambles 
that their way led them down a by- 
street in a busy quarter of London. 
The street was small and what is called 
quiet, but it drove a thriving trade on 
the week-days. The inhabitants were 
all doing well, it seemed, and all 


emulously hoping to do better still, 
" and laying out the surplus of their gains 
in coquetry ; so that the shop fronts 
stood along that thoroughfare with an 
air of invitation, like rows of smiling 
saleswomen. Even on Sunday, when 
it veiled its more florid charms and lay 
comparatively empty of passage, the 
street shone out in contrast to its dingy 
neighbourhood, like a fire in a forest ; 
and with its freshly painted shutters, 
well-polished brasses, and general clean- 
liness and gaiety of note, instantly 
caught and pleased the eye of the pas- 

Two doors from one corner, on the 
left hand going east, the line was broken 
by the entry of a court ; and just at that 
point, a certain sinister block of building 


thrust forward its gable on the street. 
It was two storeys high ; showed no* 
window, nothing but a door on the 
lower storey and a blind forehead of 
discoloured wall on the upper ; and 
bore in every feature the marks of pro- 
longed and sordid negligence. The 
door, which was equipped with neither 
bell nor knocker, was blistered and 
distained. Tramps slouched into the 
recess and struck matches on the panels ; 
children kept shop upon the steps ; the 
schoolboy had tried his knife on the 
mouldings ; and for close on a genera- 
tion, no one had appeared to drive away 
these random visitors or to repair their 

Mr. Enfield and the lawyer were on 
the other side of the by-street ; but 


when they came abreast of the entry, 
the former lifted up his cane and 

" Did you ever remark that door? 1 
he asked ; and when his companion had 
replied in the affirmative, ! It is con- 
nected in my mind/ 3 added he, ! with 
a very odd story.* 1 

" Indeed ! " said Mr. Utterson, with 
a slight change of voice, ' ' and what was 
that?" > : : 

Well, it was this way/' returned 
Mr. Enfield : : I was coming home 
from some place at the end of the world, 
about three o'clock of a black winter 
morning, and my way lay through a 
part of town where there was literally 
nothing to be seen but lamps. Street 

after street, and all the folks asleep 
DR.J. B 


street after street, all lighted up as if for 
a procession, and all as empty as a church 
till at last I got into that state of mind 
when a man listens and listens and begins 
to long for the sight of a policeman. 
All at once, I saw two figures : one a 
little man who was stumping along east- 
ward at a good walk, and the other a 
girl of maybe eight or ten who was 
running as hard as she was able down a 
cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into 
one another naturally enough at the 
corner ; and then came the horrible 
part of the thing ; for the man trampled 
calmly over the child's^body and left her 
screaming on the ground. It sounds 
nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. 
It wasn't like a man ; it was like some 
damned Juggernaut. I gave a view 


halloa, took to my heels, collared my 
gentleman, and brought him back to 
where there was already quite a group 
about the screaming child. He was 
perfectly cool and made no resistance, 
but gave me one look, so ugly that it 
brought out the sweat on me like run- 
ning. The people who had turned out 
were the girl's own family ; and pretty 
soon the doctor, for whom she had been 
sent, put in his appearance. Well, the 
child was not much the worse, more 
frightened, according to the Sawbones ; 
and there you might have supposed 
would be an end to it. But there was 
one curious circumstance. I had taken 
a loathing to my gentleman at first 
sight. So had the child's family, which 
was only natural. But the doctor's case 


was what struck me. He was the usual 
cut and dry apothecary, of no particular 
age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh 
accent, and about as emotional as a bag- 
pipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of 
us ; every time he looked at my prisoner, 
I saw that Sawbones turned sick and 
white with the desire to kill him. I 
knew what was in his mind, just as he 
knew what was in mine ; and killing 
being out of the question, we did the 
next best. We told the man we could 
and would make such a scandal out of 
this, as should make his name stink from 
one end of London to the other. If he 
had any friends or any credit, we under- 
took that he should lose them. And all 
the time, as we were pitching it in red 
hot, we were keeping the women off 


him as best we could, for they were as 
wild as harpies. I never saw a circle of 
such hateful faces ; and there was the 
man in the middle, with a kind of black, 
sneering coolness frightened, too, I 
could see that but carrying it off, sir, 
really like Satan. ' If you choose to 
make capital out of this accident/ said 
he, ' I am naturally helpless. No 
gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene/ 
says he. * Name your figure/ Well, 
we screwed him up to a hundred pounds 
for the child's family ; he would have 
clearly liked to stick out ; but there was 
something about the lot of us that meant 
mischief, and at last he struck. The 
next thing was to get the money ; and 
where do you think he carried us but to 
that place with the door ? whipped out 


a key, went in, and presently came back 
with the matter of ten pounds in gold 
and a cheque for the balance on Coutts's, 
drawn payable to bearer, and signed 
with a name that I can't mention, though 
it's one of the points of my story, but it 
was a name at least very well known and 
often printed. The figure was stiff ; 
but the signature was good for more 
than that, if it was only genuine. I 
took the liberty of pointing out to my 
gentleman that the whole business looked 
apocryphal ; and that a man does not, 
in real life, walk into a cellar door at 
four in the morning and come out of it 
with another man's cheque for close 
upon a hundred pounds. But he was 
quite easy and sneering. ; Set your 
mind at rest,' says he ; ' I will stay with 


you till the banks open, and cash the 
cheque myself.' So we all set off, the 
doctor, and the child's father, and our 
friend and myself, and passed the rest 
of the night in my chambers ; and next 
day, when we had breakfasted, went in 
a body to the bank. I gave in the 
cheque myself, and said I had every 
reason to believe it was a forgery. Not 
a bit of it. The cheque was genuine/ 3 

" Tut-tut ! " said Mr. Utterson. 

1 1 see you feel as I do," said Mr. 
Enfield. Yes, it's a bad story. For 
my man was a fellow that nobody could 
have to do with, a really damnable man ; 
and the person that drew the cheque is 
the very pink of the proprieties, cele- 
brated, too, and (what makes it worse) 
one of your fellows who do what they 


call good. Blackmail, I suppose ; an 
honest man paying through the nose 
for some of the capers of his youth. 
Black Mail House is what I call that 
place with the door, in consequence. 
Though even that, you know, is far 
from explaining all/ 3 he added ; and 
with the words fell into a vein of musing. 

From this he was recalled by Mr. 
Utterson asking rather suddenly : "And 
you don't know if the drawer of the 
cheque lives there ? J 

E< A likely place, isn't it ? ' returned 
Mr. Enfield. But I happen to have 
noticed his address ; he lives in some 
square or other." 

"And you never asked about the 
place with the door ? ! said Mr. Utter- 


" No, sir : I had a delicacy/ 3 was the 
reply. " I feel very strongly about 
putting questions ; it partakes too much 
of the style of the day of judgment. 
You start a question, and it's like start- 
ing a stone. You sit quietly on the top 
of a hill ; and away the stone goes, 
starting others ; and presently some 
bland old bird (the last you would have 
thought of) is knocked on the head in 
his own back garden, and the family 
have to change their name. No, sir, I 
make it a rule of mine : the more it 
looks like Queer Street, the less I ask." 

"A very good rule, too/ 5 said the 

But I have studied the place for 
myself/ 5 continued Mr. Eniield. It 
seems scarcely a house. There is no 


other door, and nobody goes in or out 
of that one, but, once in a great while, 
the gentleman of my adventure. There 
are three windows looking on the court 
on the first floor ; none below ; the 
windows are always shut, but they're 
clean. And then there is a chimney, 
which is generally smoking ; so some- 
body must live there. And yet it's not 
so sure ; for the buildings are so packed 
together about that court, that it's hard 
.to say where one ends and another 

The pair walked on again for a while 
in silence ; and then " Enfield," said 
Mr. Utterson, ' that's a good rule of 

" Yes, I think it is," returned En- 


" But for all that," continued the 
lawyer, ' there's one point I want to 
ask : I want to ask the name of that 
man who walked over the child. >! 

" Well," said Mr. Enfield, " I can't 
see what harm it would do. It was a 
man of the name of Hyde." 


" Hm," said Mr. Utterson. " What 
sort of a man is he to see ? ' 

; He is not easy to describe. There 
is something wrong with his appearance ; 
something displeasing, something down- 
right detestable. I never saw a man 
so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. 
He must be deformed somewhere ; he 
gives a strong feeling of deformity, 
although I couldn't specify the point. 
He's an extraordinary looking man, 
and yet I really can name nothing out 


of the way. No, sir ; I can make no 
hand of it ; I can't describe him. . And 
it's not want of memory ; for I declare 
I can see him this moment." 

Mr. Utterson again walked some way 
in silence, and obviously under a weight 
of consideration. You are sure he 
used a key ? ! he inquired at last. 

" My dear sir . . ." began Ehfield, 
surprised out of himself. 

"Yes, I know," said Utterson; "'I 
know it must seem strange. The fact 
is, if I do not ask you the name of the 
other party, it is because I know it 
already. You see, Richard, your tale 
has gone home. If you have been 
inexact in any point, you had better 

correct it.' 

I think you might have warned 


me," returned the other, with a touch of 
sullenness. ' But I have been pedanti- 
cally exact, as you call it. The fellow 
had a key ; and, what's more, he has it 
still. I saw him use it, not a week ago." 
Mr. Utterson sighed deeply, but said 
never a word ; and the young man 
presently resumed. ! Here is another 
lesson to say nothing/ 3 ' said he. ' I am 
ashamed of my long tongue. Let us 
make a bargain never to refer to this 
again.' 5 

With all my heart," said the lawyer. 
" I shake hands on that, Richard." 



THAT evening Mr. Utterson came home 
to his bachelor house in sombre spirits, 
and sat down to dinner without relish. 
It was his custom of a Sunday, when 
this meal was over, to sit close by the 
fire, a volume of some dry divinity on 
his reading desk, until the clock of the 
neighbouring church rang out the hour 
of twelve, when he would go soberly 
and gratefully to bed. On this night, 
however, as soon as the cloth was taken 
away, he took up a candle and went 
into his business room. There he 
opened his safe, took from the most 
private part of it a document endorsed 




on the envelope as Dr. Jekyll's Will, 
and sat down with a clouded brow^to 
study its contents. The will was holo- 
graph ; for Mr. Utterson, though he 
took charge of it now that it was made, 
had refused to lend the least assistance 
in the making of it ; it provided not 
only that, in case of the decease of 
Henry Jekyll, M.D., D.C.L., LL.D., 
F.R.S., etc., all his possessions were to 
pass into the hands of his " friend and 
benefactor Edward Hyde 3 ; but that 
in case of Dr. Jekyll's ' disappearance 
or unexplained absence for any period 
exceeding three calendar months/' the 
said Edward Hyde, should step into the 
said Henry Jekyll's shoes without further 
delay, and free from any burthen or 
obligation, beyond the payment of a few 


small sums to the members of the doctors 
household. This document had long 
been the lawyer's eyesore. It offended 
him both as a lawyer and as a lover of 
the sane and customary sides of life, to 
whom the fanciful was the immodest. 
And hitherto it was his ignorance of Mr. 
Hyde that had swelled his indignation ; 
now, by a sudden turn, it was his know- 
ledge. It was already bad enough when 
the name was but a name of which he 
could learn no more. It was worse 
when it began to be clothed upon with 
detestable attributes; and out of the 
shifting, insubstantial mists that had so 
long baffled his eye, there leaped up the 
sudden, definite presentment of a fiend. 
: I thought it was madness," he said, 
as he replaced the obnoxious paper in 


the safe ; ' and now I begin to fear it 
is disgrace. " 

With that he blew out his candle, 
put on a great coat, and set forth in the 
direction of Cavendish Square, that 
citadel of medicine, where his friend, 
the great Dr. Lanyon, had his house 
and received his crowding patients. 
1 If any one knows, it will be Lanyon," 
he had thought. 

The solemn butler knew and wel- 
comed him ; he was subjected to no 
stage of delay, but ushered direct from 
the door to the dining-room, where 
Dr. Lanyon sat alone over his wine. 
This was- a hearty, healthy, dapper, 
red-faced gentleman; -with- "a shock of 
hair prematurely white, and a boisterous 
and decided manner. At sight of Mr, 


Utterson, he sprang up from his chair 
and welcomed him with both hands. 
The geniality, as was the way of the 
man, was somewhat theatrical to the 
eye ; but it reposed on genuine feeling. 
For these two were old friends, old 
mates both at school and college, both 
thorough respecters of themselves and 
of each other, and, what does not always 
follow, men who thoroughly enjoyed 
each other's company. 

After a little rambling talk, the lawyer 
led up to the subject which so disagree- 
ably preoccupied his mind. 

: I suppose, Lanyon," said he, you 
and I must be the two oldest friends 
that Henry Jekyll has ? " 

! I wish the friends were younger/" 
chuckled Dr. Lanyon. " But I suppose 


we are. And what of that ? I see 
little of him now/ 1 

" Indeed ! " said Utterson. " I 
thought you had a bond of common 

interest. : 

" We had/' was the reply. " But 
it is more than ten years since Henry 
Jekyll became too fanciful for me. He 
began to go wrong, wrong in mind ; 
and though, of course, I continue to 
take an interest in him for old sake's 
sake as they say, I see and I have seen 
devilish little of the man. Such un- 
scientific balderdash/ 3 added the doctor, 
flushing suddenly purple, ' would have 
estranged Damon and Pythias/ : 

This little spirt of temper was some- 
what of a relief to Mr. Utterson. " They 
have only differed on some point of 


science," he thought ; and being a man 
of no scientific passions (except in the 
matter of conveyancing) he even added : 
" It is nothing worse than that ! 3 
He gave his friend a few seconds 
to recover his composure, and then 
approached the question he had come 
to put. 

" Did you ever come across a prottge 
of his one Hyde ? ' he asked. 

" Hyde ? " repeated Lanyon. " No. 
Never heard of him. Since my 

time. 3 

That was the amount of information 
that the lawyer carried back with him 
to the great, dark bed on which he 
tossed to and fro, until the small hours 
of the morning began to grow large. 
It was a night of little ease to his toiling 


mind, toiling in mere darkness and 
besieged by questions 

Six o'clock struck on the bells of the 
church that was so conveniently near to 
Mr. Utterson's dwelling, and still he 
was digging at the problem. Hitherto 
it had touched him on the intellectual 
side alone ; but now his imagination 
also was engaged, or rather enslaved ; 
and as he lay and tossed in the gross 
darkness of the night and the curtained 
room, Mr. Enfield's tale went by before 
his mind in a scroll of lighted pictures. 
He would be aware of the great field of 
lamps of a nocturnal city ; then of the 
figure of a man walking swiftly ; then 
of a child running from the doctor's ; 
and then these met, and that human 
Juggernaut trod the child .down and 


passed on regardless of her screams. 
Or else he would see a room in a rich 
house, where his friend lay asleep, 
dreaming and smiling at his dreams ; 
and then the door of that room would 
be opened, the curtains of the bed 
plucked apart, the sleeper recalled, and, 
lo ! there would stand by his side a 
figure to whom power was given, and 
even at that dead hour, he must rise and 
do its bidding. The figure in these two 
phases haunted the lawyer all night ; 


and if at any time he dozed over, it was 
but to see it glide more stealthily through 
sleeping houses, or move the more swiftly 
and still the more swiftly, even to 
dizziness, through wider labyrinths of 
lamp-lighted city, and at every street 
corner crush a child and leave her 


screaming. And still the figure had no 
face by which he might know it ; even 
in his dreams, it had no face, or one 
that baffled him and melted before his 
eyes ; and thus it was that there sprang 
up and grew apace in the lawyer's mind 
a singularly strong, almost an inordi- 
nate, curiosity to behold the features of 
the real Mr. Hyde. If he could but 
once set eyes on him, he thought the 
mystery would lighten and perhaps roll 
altogether away, as was^ the habit of 
mysterious things when well examined. 
He might see a reason for his friend's 
strange preference or bondage (call it 
which you please), and even for the 
startling clauses of the will. And at 
least it would be a face worth seeing : 
the face of a man who was without 


bowels of mercy : a face which had but 
to show itself to raise up, in the mind of 
the unimpressionable Enfield, a spirit of 
enduring hatred. 

From that time forward, Mr. Utterson 
began to haunt the door in the by-street 
of shops. In the morning before office 
hours, at noon when business was plenty 
and time scarce, at night under the face 
of the fogged city moon, by all lights 
and at all hours of solitude or con- 
course, the lawyer was to be found on his 
chosen post. 

" If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought. 
" I shall be Mr. Seek." 

And at last his patience was rewarded. 
It was a fine dry night ; frost in the air, 
the streets as clean as a ball-room floor ; 
the lamps, unshaken by any wind, 



drawing a regular pattern of light and 
shadow. By ten o'clock, when the 
shops were closed, the by-street was 
very solitary, and, in spite of the low 
growl of London from all round, very 
silent. Small sounds carried far ; 
domestic sounds out of the houses were 
clearly audible on either side of the road- 
way ; and the rumour of the approach 
of any passenger preceded him by a 
long time. Mr. Utterson had been 
Some minutes at his post when he 
was aware of an odd, light footstep 
drawing near. In the course of his 
nightly patrols he had long grown ac- 
customed to the quaint effect with which 
the footfalls of a single person, while he 
is still a great way off, suddenly spring 
out distinct from the vast hum and 


clatter of the city. Yet his attention 
had never before been so sharply and 
decisively arrested ; and it was with a 
strong, superstitious prevision of success 
that he withdrew into the entry of the 

The steps drew swiftly nearer, and 
swelled out suddenly louder as they 
turned the end of the street. The 
lawyer, looking forth from the entry, 
could soon see what manner of man he 
had to deal with. He was small, and 
very plainly dressed ; and the look of 
him, even at that distance, went some- 
how strongly against the watcher's in- 
clination. But he made straight for the 
door, crossing the roadway to save time ; 
and as he came, he drew a key from his 
pocket, like one approaching home. 


Mr. Utterson stepped out and touched 
him on the shoulder as he passed. " Mr. 
Hyde, I think ? " 

Mr. Hyde shrank back with a hissing 
intake of the breath. But his fear was 
only momentary ; and though he did 
not look the lawyer in the face, he 
answered coolly enough : That is my 
name. What do you want ? 5 

" I see you are going in," returned 
the lawyer. ! I am an old friend of 
Dr. Jekyirs Mr. Utterson, of Gaunt 
Street you must have heard my 
name ; and meeting you so con- 
veniently, I thought you might admit 


You will not find Dr. Jekyll ; he is 
from home," replied Mr. Hyde, blowing 
in the key. And then suddenly, buc 


still without looking up, " How did 
you know me ? : he asked. 

" On your side," said Mr. Utterson, 
" will you do me a favour ? : 

" With pleasure/ 3 replied the other. 
" What shall it be ? " 

" Will you let me sec your face ? ' 
asked the lawyer. 

Mr. Hyde appeared to hesitate ; and 
then, as if upon some sudden reflection, 
fronted about with an air of defiance ; 
and the pair stared at each other pretty 
fixedly for a few seconds. : Now I 
shall know you again," said Mr. Utter- 
son. : It may be useful. " 

" Yes," returned Mr. Hyde, " it is as 
well we have met ; and a propos, you 
should have my address." And he gave 
a number of a street in Soho. 


" Good God ! " thought Mr. Utter- 
son, ' can he too have been thinking of 
the will ? ' But he kept his feelings to 
himself, and only grunted in acknow- 
ledgment of the address. 

And now/ 2 said the other, how 
did you know me ? 5 

By description, 13 was the reply. 

Whose description ? ' 

We have common friends," said Mr. 

Common friends ! echoed Mr. 
Hyd, a little hoarsely. Who are 

Jekyll, for instance," said the 

" He never told you," cried Mr, 
Hyde, with a flush of anger. ! I did 
not think you would have lied.' 3 


" Come/' said Mr. Utterson, " that 
is not fitting language." 

The other snarled aloud into a savage 
laugh ; and the next moment, with 
extraordinary quickness, he had un- 
locked the door and disappeared into 
the house. 

The lawyer stood awhile when Mr. 
Hyde had left him, the picture of dis- 
quietude. Then he began slowly to 
mount the street, pausing every step or 
two, and putting his hand to his brow 
like a man in mental perplexity. The 
problem he was thus debating as he 
walked was one of a class that is rarely 
solved. Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarf- 
ish ; he gave an impression of deformity 
without any namable malformation, he 

had a displeasing smile, he had borne 
DR.J. c 


himself to the lawyer with a sort of 
murderous mixture of timidity and 
boldness, and he spoke with a husky, 
whispering and somewhat broken voice, 
all these were points against him ; but 
not all of these together could explain 
the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing 


and fear with which Mr. Utterson re- 
garded him. There must be some- 
thing else," said the perplexed gentle- 
man. There is something more, if I 
could find a name for it. God bless me, 
the man seems hardly human ! Some- 
thing troglodytic, shall we say ? or can 
it be the old story of Dr. Fell ? or is it 
the mere radiance of a foul soul that 
thus transpires through, and transfigures, 
its clay continent ? The last, I think ; 
for, O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever 


I read Satan's signature upon a face, it 
is on that of your new friend. >! 

Round the corner from the by-street 
there was a square of ancient, handsome 
houses, now for the most part decayed 
from their high estate, and let in flats 
and chambers, to all sorts and conditions 
of men : map-engravers, architects, 
shady lawyers, and the agents of obscure 
enterprises. One house, however, 
second from the corner, was still oc- 
cupied entire ; and at the door of this, 
which wore a great air of wealth and 
comfort, though it was now plunged in 
darkness except for the fan-light, Mr. 
Utterson stopped and knocked. A well- 
dressed, elderly servant opened the door. 

" Is Dr. Jekyll at home, Poole i " 
asked the lawyer. 


" I will see, Mr. Utterson," said 
Poole, admitting the visitor, as he spoke, 
into a large, low-roofed, comfortable 
hall, paved with flags, warmed (after the 
fashion of a country house) by a bright, 
open fire, and furnished with costly 
cabinets of oak. Will you wait here 
by the fire, sir ? or shall I give you a 
light in the dining-room ? 3 

' Here, thank you/ 3 said the lawyer ; 
and he drew near and leaned on the tall 
. fender. This hall, in which he was now 
left alone, was a pet fancy of his friend 
the doctor's ; and Utterson himself was 
wont to speak of it as the pleasantest 
room in London. But to-night there 
was a shudder in his blood ; the face 
of Hyde sat heavy on his memory ; 
he felt (what was rare with him) a 


nausea and distaste of life ; and in the 
gloom of his spirits, he seemed to read 
a menace in the flickering of the fire- 
light on the polished cabinets and the 
uneasy starting of the shadow on the 
roof. He was ashamed of his relief, 
when Poole presently returned to an- 
nounce that Dr. Jekyll was gone 

" I saw Mr. Hyde go in by the old 
dissecting room door, Poole/ 3 he said. 
1 Is that right, when Dr. Jekyll is from 
home ? " 

" Quite right, Mr. Utterson, sir," 
replied the servant. " Mr. Hyde has 
a key." 

Your master seems to repose a great 
deal of trust in that young man, Poole," 
resumed the other, musingly. 


Yes, sir, he do indeed/ 1 said Poole. 
We have all orders to obey him." 

; I do not think I ever met Mr. 
Hyde ? ! asked Utterson. 

: O dear no, sir. He never dines 
here," replied the butler. " Indeed, 
we see very little of him on this side of 
the house ; he mostly comes and goes 
by the laboratory/ 1 

" Well, good-night, Poole." 
" Good-night, Mr. Utterson." 
And the lawyer set out homeward 
with a very heavy heart. Poor Harry 
Jekyll," he thought, E my mind mis- 
gives me he is in deep waters ! He was 
wild when he was young ; a long while 
ago, to be sure ; but in the law of God, 
there is no statute of limitations. Ah, 
it must be that ; the ghost of some old 


sin, the cancer of some concealed dis- 
grace ; punishment coming, pede claudo, 
years after memory has forgotten and 
self-love condoned the fault.' And the 
lawyer, scared by the thought, brooded 
awhile on his own past, groping in all 
the corners of memory, lest by chance 
some Jack-in-the-Box of an old iniquity 
should leap to light there. His past was 
fairly blameless ; few men could read 
the rolls of their life with less apprehen- 
sion ; yet he was humbled to the dust 
by the many ill things he had done, and 
raised up again into a sober and fearful 
gratitude by the many that he had come 
so near to doing, yet avoided. And 
then by a return on his former subject, 
he conceived a spark of hope. This 
Master Hyde, if he were studied,' 1 


thought he, { must have secrets of his 
own : black secrets, by the look of him ; 
secrets compared to which poor Jekyll's 
worst would be like sunshine. Things 
cannot continue as they are. It turns 
me cold to think of this creature stealing 
like a thief to Harry's bedside ; poor 
Harry, what a wakening ! And the 
danger of it ! for if this Hyde suspects 
the existence of the will, he may grow 
impatient to inherit. Ah, I must put 
my shoulder to the wheel if Jekyll 
will but let me," he added, " if Jekyll 
will only let me. >: For once more he 
saw before his mind's eye, as clear as a 
transparency, the strange clauses of the 




A FORTNIGHT later, by excellent good 
fortune, the doctor gave one of his 
pleasant dinners to some five or six old 
cronies, all intelligent reputable men, 
and all judges of good wine ; and Mr. 
Utterson so contrived that he remained 
behind after the others had departed. 
This was no new arrangement, but a 
thing that had befallen many scores of 
times. Where Utterson was liked, he 
was liked well. Hosts loved to detain 
the dry lawyer, when the light-hearted 
and the loose-tongued had already their 
foot on the threshold ; "they liked to sit 



awhile in his unobtrusive company, 
practising for solitude, sobering their 
minds in the man's rich silence, after 
the expense and strain of gaiety. To 
this rule, Dr. Jekyll was no exception ; 
and as he now sat on the opposite side of 
the fire a large, well-made, smooth- 
faced man of fifty, with something of a 
slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of 
capacity and kindness you could see 
by his looks that he cherished for 
Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affec- 


[ I have been wanting to speak to 
you, Jekyll/ 3 began the latter. " You 
know that will of yours ? ! 

A close observer might have gathered 
that the topic was distasteful ; but the 
doctor carried it off gaily. " My poor 


Utterson," said he, you are unfortun- 
ate in such a client. I never saw a man 
so distressed as you were by my will ; 
unless it were that hide-bound pedant, 
Lanyon, at what he called my scientific 
heresies. Oh, I know he's a good fellow 
you needn't frown an excellent fel- 
low, and I always mean to see more of 
him ; but a hide-bound pedant for all 
that ; an ignorant, blatant pedant. I 
was never more disappointed in any man 
than Lanyon. " 

You know I never approved of it," 
pursued Utterson, ruthlessly disregard- 
ing the fresh topic. 

" My will ? Yes, certainly, I know 
that," said the doctor, a trifle sharply. 
" You have told me so." 

" Well, I tell you so again," continued 


the lawyer. " I have been learning 
something of young Hyde.' 

The large handsome face of Dr. 

Jekyll grew pale to the very lips, and 

there came a blackness about his eyes. 

1 1 do not care to hear more/ 3 said he. 

This is a matter I thought we had 

agreed to drop/ 1 

What I heard was abominable/' 
said Utterson. 

: It can make no change. You do 
not understand my position/ 3 returned 
the doctor, with a certain incoherency of 
manner. I am painfully situated, 
Utterson ; my position is a very strange 
a very strange one. It is one of those 
affairs that cannot be mended by 

Jekyll/ 3 said Utterson, you know 


me : I am a man to be trusted. Make a 
clean breast of this in confidence ; and I 
make no doubt I can get you out 
of it." 

1 My good Utterson," said the doctor, 
E this is very good of you, this is down- 
right good of you, and I cannot find 
words to thank you in. I believe you 
fully ; I would trust you before any 
man alive, ay, before myself, if I could 
make the choice ; but indeed it isn't 
what you fancy ; it is not so bad as that ; 
and just to put your good heart at rest, 
I will tell you one thing : the moment I 
choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I 
give you my hand upon that ; and I 
thank you again and again ; and I will 
just add one little word, Utterson, that 
I'm sure you'll take in good part : this 


is a private matter, and I beg of you to 
let it sleep." 

Utterson reflected a little, looking in 
the fire. 

1 1 have no doubt you are perfectly 
right," he said at last, getting to his feet. 
Well, but since we have touched 
upon this business, and for the last time, 
I hope/ 3 continued the doctor, ; there 
is one point I should like you to under- 
stand. I have really a very great interest 
in poor Hyde. I know you have seen 
him ; he told me so ; and I fear he was 
rude. But I do sincerely take a great, 
a very great interest in that young man ; 
and if I am taken away, Utterson, I wish 
you to promise me that you will bear 
with him and get his rights for him. I 
think you would, if you knew all ; and 


it would be a weight off my mind if you 
would promise/ 3 

' J can't pretend that I shall ever like 
him,' 1 said the lawyer. 

" I don't ask that," pleaded Jekyll, 

laying his hand upon the other's srm ; 

' I only ask for justice ; I only ask you 

to help him for my sake, when I am no 

longer here/ 1 

Utterson heaved an irrepressible sigh. 
" Well," said he, " I promise." 



NEARLY a year later, in the month of 
October, 18 , London was startled by 
a crime of singular ferocity, and ren- 
dered all the more notable by the high 
position of the victim. The details 
were few and startling. A maid-servant 
living alone in a house not far from the 

river, had gone upstairs to bed about 
eleven. Although a fog rolled over 
the city in the small hours, the early part 
of the night was cloudless, and the lane, 
which the maid's window overlooked, 
was brilliantly lit by the full moon. It 
seems she was romantically given ; , for 

she sat down upon her box, which 



stood immediately under the window, 
and fell into a dream of musing. Never 
(she used to say, with streaming tears, 
when she narrated that experience), 
never had she felt more at peace with all 
men or thought more kindly of the 
world. And as she so sat she became 
aware of an aged and beautiful gentle- 
man with white hair, drawing near along 
the lane ; and advancing to meet him, 
another and very small gentleman, to 
whom at first she paid less attention. 
When they had come within speech 
(which was just under the maid's eyes) 
the older man bowed and accosted the 
other with a very pretty manner of 
politeness. It did not seem as if the 
subject of his address were of great im- 
portance ; indeed, from his pointing, it 


sometimes appeared as if he were only 
inquiring his way ; but the moon shone 
on his face as he spoke, and the girl was 
pleased to watch it, it seemed to breathe 
such an innocent and old-world kind- 
ness of disposition, yet with something 
high too, as of a well-founded self- 
content. Presently her eye wandered 
to the other, and she was surprised to 
recognise in him a certain Mr. Hyde, 
who had once visited her master, and for 
whom she had conceived a dislike. He 
had in his hand a heavy cane, with which 
he was trifling ; but he answered never 
a word, and seemed to listen with an 
ill-contained impatience. And then all 
of a sudden he broke out in a great flame 
of anger, stamping with his foot, bran- 
dishing the cane, and carrying on (as 


the maid described it) like a madman. 
The old gentleman took a step back, 
with the air of one very much surprised 
and a trifle hurt ; and at that Mr. Hyde 
broke out of all bounds, and clubbed 
him to the earth. And next moment, 
with ape-like fury, he was trampling his 
victim under foot, and hailing down a 
storm of blows, under which the bones 
were audibly shattered and the body 
jumped upon the roadway. At the 
horror of these sights and sounds, the 
maid fainted. 

It was two o'clock when she came to 
herself and called for the police. The 
murderer was gone long ago ; but there 
lay his victim in the middle of the lane, 
incredibly mangled. The stick with 
which the deed had been done, although 


it was of some rare and very tough and 
heavy wood, had broken in the middle 
under the stress of this insensate cruelty ; 
and one splintered half had rolled in the 
neighbouring gutter the other, with- 
out doubt, had been carried away by 
the murderer. A purse and a gold 
watch were found upon the victim ; but 
no cards or papers, except a sealed and 
stamped envelope, which he had been 
probably carrying to the post, and which 
bore the name and address of Mr. 

This was brought to the lawyer the 
next morning, before he was out of 
bed ; and he had no sooner seen it, 
and been told the circumstances, than 
he shot out a solemn lip. ! I shall say 
nothing till I have seen the body," said 


he ; E this may be very serious. Have 
the kindness to wait while I dress." 
And with the same grave countenance 
he hurried through his breakfast and 
drove to the police station, whither the 
body had been carried. As soon as he 
came into the cell, he nodded. 

Yes/ 3 said he, : I recognise him. 
I am sorry to say that this is Sir Danvers 

Good God, sir, 11 exclaimed the 
officer, ' c is it possible ? ' And the next 
moment his eye lighted up with profes- 
sional ambition. This will make a 
deal of noise/ 3 he said. * And perhaps 
you can help us to the man. r And he 
briefly narrated what the maid had seen, 
and showed the broken stick. 

Mr. Utterson had already quailed at 


the name of Hyde ; but when the stick 
was laid before him, he could doubt no 
longer : broken and battered as it was, 
he recognised it for one that he had 
himself presented many years before 
to Henry Jekyll. 

! Is this Mr. Hyde a person of small 
stature ? ' he inquired. 

" Particularly small and particularly 
wicked-looking, is what the maid calls 
him," said the officer. 

Mr. Utterson reflected ; and then, 
raising his head, ' ! If you will come with 
me in my cab/' he said, I think I can 
take you to his house/ 1 

It was by this time about nine in the 
morning, and the first fog of the season. 
A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered 
over heaven, but the wind was 


continually charging and routing these 
embattled vapours ; so that as the cab 
crawled from street to street, Mr. 
Utterson beheld a marvellous number of 
degrees and hues of twilight ; for here 
it would be dark like the back-end of 
evening ; and there would be a glow of a 
rich, lurid brown, like the light of some 
strange conflagration ; and here, for a 
moment, the fog would be quite broken 
up, and a haggard shaft of daylight 
would glance in between the swirling 
wreaths. The dismal quarter of Soho 
seen under these changing glimpses, 
with its muddy ways, and slatternly 
passengers, and its lamps, which had 
never been extinguished or had been 
kindled afresh to combat this mournful 
reinvasion of darkness, seemed, in the 


lawyer's eyes, like a district of some 
city in a nightmare. The thoughts of 
his mind, besides, were of the gloomiest 
dye ; and when he glanced at the com- 
panion of his drive, he was conscious of 
some touch of that terror of the law and 
the law's officers, which may at times 
assail the most honest. 

As the cab drew up before the address 
indicated, the fog lifted a little and 
showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, 
a low French eating house, a shop for 
the retail of penny numbers and two- 
penny salads, many ragged children 
huddled in the doorways, and many 
women of many different nationalities 
passing out, key in hand, to have a 
morning glass ; and the next moment 
the fog settled down again upon that 


part, as brown as umber, and cut him 
off from his blackguardly surroundings. 
This was the home of Henry Jekyll's 
favourite ; of a man who was heir to 
a quarter of a million sterling. 

An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old 
woman opened the door. She had an 
evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy ; but 
her manners were excellent. Yes, she 
said, this was Mr. Hyde's, but he was 
not at home ; he had been in that night 
very late, but had gone away again in 
less than an hour : there was nothing 
strange in that ; his habits were very 
irregular, and he was often absent ; for 
instance, it was nearly two months since 
she had seen him till yesterday. 

Very well, then, we wish to see his 
rooms," said the lawyer ; and when 


the woman began to declare it was 
.impossible, " I had better tell you 
who this person is/ 3 he added. This 
is Inspector Newcomen, of Scotland 

A flash of odious joy appeared upon 
the woman's face. : Ah ! ! said she, 
* he is in trouble ! What has he done ? ' 

Mr. Utterson and the inspector ex- 
changed glances. E He don't seem a 


very popular character/ 3 observed the 
latter. : And now, my good woman, 
just let me and this gentleman have a 
look about us.' : 

In the whole extent of the house, 
which but for the old woman remained 
otherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only 
used a couple of rooms ; but these were 
furnished with luxury and good taste. 


A closet was filled with wine ; the 
plate was of silver, the napery elegant ; 
a good picture hung upon the walls, a 
gift (as Utterson supposed) from Henry 
Jekyll, who was much of a connoisseur ; 
and the carpets were of many piles and 
agreeable in colour. At this moment, 
however, the rooms bore every mark of 
having been recently and hurriedly 
ransacked ; clothes lay about the floor, 
with their pockets inside out ; lockfast 
drawers stood open ; and on the hearth 
there lay a pile of gray ashes, as though 
many papers had been burned. From 
these embers the inspector disinterred 
the butt end of a green cheque book, 
which had resisted the action of the fire ; 
the other half of the stick w r as found 
behind the door ; and as this clinched 


his suspicions, the officer declared him- 
self delighted. A visit to the bank, 
where several thousand pounds were 
found to be lying to the murderer's 
credit, completed his gratification. 

You may depend upon it, sir," he 
told Mr. Utterson : 1 1 have him in my 
hand. He must have lost his head, or 
he never would have left the stick, or, 
above all, burned the cheque book. 
Why, money's life to the man. We hav.e 
nothing to do but wait for him at the 
bank, and get out the handbills/ 1 

This last, however, was not so easy of 
accomplishment ; for Mr. Hyde had 
numbered few familiars even the 
master of the servant-maid had only 
seen him twice ; his family could no- 
where be traced ; he had never been 

DR.J. D 


photographed ; and the few who could 
describe him differed widely, as common 
observers will. Only on one point were 
they agreed ; and that was the haunting 
sense of unexpressed deformity with 
which the fugitive impressed his be- 



IT was late in the afternoon, when Mr. 
Utterson found his way to Dr. Jekyll's 
door, where he was at once admitted by 
Poole, and carried down by the kitchen 
offices and across a yard which had once 
been a garden, to the building .which 


was indifferently known as the labora- 
tory or the dissecting rooms. The doctor 
had bought the house from the heirs of 
a celebrated surgeon ; and his own 
tastes being rather chemical than ana- 
tomical, had changed the destination of 
the block at the bottom of the garden. 
It was the first time that the lawyer had 
been received in that part of his friend's 



quarters ; and he eyed the dingy 
windowless structure with curiosity, and 
gazed round with a distasteful sense of 
strangeness as he crossed the theatre, 
once crowded with eager students, and 
now lying gaunt and silent, the tables 
laden with chemical apparatus, the floor 
strewn with crates and littered with 
packing straw, and the light falling 
dimly through the foggy cupola. At 
the further end, a flight of stairs mounted 
to a door covered with red baize ; and 
through this, Mr. Utterson was at last 
received into the doctor's cabinet. It 
was a large room, fitted round with glass 
presses, furnished, among other things, 
with a cheval-glass and a business table, 
and looking out upon the court by three 
dusty windows barred with iron. The 


fire burned in the grate ; a lamp was set 
lighted on the chimney shelf, for even 
in the houses the fog began to lie thickly; 
and there, close up to the warmth, sat 
Dr. Jekyll, looking deadly sick. He did 
not rise to meet his visitor, but held out 
a cold hand, and bade him welcome in a 
changed voice. 

' And now," said Mr. Utterson, as 
soon as Poole had left them, you have 
heard the news ? ' 

The doctor shuddered. They were 
crying it in the square," he said. ' I 
heard them in my dining-room. >! 

; One word/ 3 said the lawyer. 

[ Carew was my client, but so are you ; 

and I want to know what I am doing. 

You have not been mad enough to 

hide this fellow ? " , 


Utterson, I swear to God," cried 
the doctor, ' ; I swear to God I will never 
set eyes on him again. I bind my 
honour to you that I am done with him 
in this world. It is all at an end. And 
indeed he does not want my help ; you 
do not know him as I do ; he is safe, he 
is quite safe ; mark my words, he will 
never more be heard of." 

The lawyer listened gloomily ; he 
did not like his friend's feverish manner. 

You seem pretty sure of him," said 
he ; ' and for your sake, I hope you 
may be right. If it came to a trial, 
your name might appear.' 

1 I am quite sure of him," replied 
Jekyll ; ; I have grounds for certainty 
that I cannot share with any one. But 
there is one thing on which you may 


advise me. I have I have received a 
letter ; and I am at a loss whether I 
should show it to the police. I should 
like to leave it in your hands, Utterson ; 
you would judge wisely, I am sure ; I 
have so great a trust in you." 

You fear, I suppose, that it might 
lead to his detection ? ' asked the 

" No," said the other. " I cannot 
say that I care what becomes of Hyde ; 
I am quite done with him. I was 
thinking of my own character, which 
this hateful business has rather exposed.' 1 

Utterson ruminated awhile ; he was 
surprised at his friend's selfishness, and 
yet relieved by it. Well," said he, at 
last, : let me see the letter." 

The letter was written in an odd, 


upright hand, and signed Edward 
Hyde ' : and it signified, briefly enough 
that the writer's benefactor, Dr. Jekyll, 
whom he had long so unworthily re- 
paid for a thousand generosities, need 
labour under no alarm for his safety, as 
he had means of escape on which he 
placed a sure dependence. The lawyer 
liked this letter well enough : it put a 
better colour on the intimacy than he 
had looked for ; and he blamed himself 
for some of his past suspicions. 

" Have you the envelope ? ! ' he asked. 

" I burned it, J> replied Jekyll, ( before 
I thought what I was about. But it 
bore no postmark. The note was 
handed in." 

" Shall I keep this and sleep upon 
it ? " asked Utterson. 


I wish you to judge for me entirely," 
was the reply. : I have lost confidence 
in my self. J: 

Well, I shall consider," returned the 
lawyer. ! And now one word more : 
it was Hyde who dictated the terms in 

your will about that disappearance ? ' 
The doctor seemed seized with a 

qualm of faintness ; he shut his mouth 

tight and nodded. 

" I knew it," said Utterson. " He 

meant to murder you. You have had 

a fine escape/ 1 


: I have had what is far more to the 
purpose," returned the doctor solemnly : 
I have had a lesson O God, Utter- 
son, what a lesson I have had ! ' And 
he covered his face for a moment with 
his hands. 


On his way out, the lawyer stopped 

and had a word or two with Poole. 

'By the bye/ 3 said he, "there was a 

letter handed in to-day : what was the 


messenger like ? ' But Poole was posi- 
tive nothing had come except by post ; 
' and only circulars by that/ 3 he added. 
This news sent off the visitor with his 
fears renewed. Plainly the letter had 
come by the laboratory door ; possibly, 
indeed, it had been written in the 
cabinet ; and, if that were so, it must 
be differently judged, and handled with 
the more caution. The news-boys, as he 
went, were crying themselves hoarse 
along the footways : ; Special edition. 
Shocking murder of an M.P." That 
was the funeral oration of one friend 
and client ; and he could not help a 


certain apprehension lest the good name 
of another should be sucked down in 
the eddy of the scandal. It was, at 
least, a ticklish decision that he had to 
make ; and, self-reliant as he was by 
nabit, he began to cherish a longing 
for advice. It was not to be had 
directly ; but perhaps, he thought, it 
might be fished for. 

Presently after, he sat on one side of 
his own hearth, with Mr. Guest, his 
head clerk, upon the other, and mid- 
way between, at a nicely calculated 
distance from the fire, a bottle of a 
particular old wine that had long dwelt 
unsunned in the foundations of his 
house. The fog still slept on the wing 
above the drowned city, where the 
lamps glimmered like carbuncles ; and 


through the muffle and smother of these 
fallen clouds, the procession of the 
town's life was still rolling in through 
the great arteries with a sound as of a 
mighty wind. But the room was gay 
with firelight. In the bottle the acids 
were long ago resolved ; the imperial 
dye had softened with time, as the colour 
grows richer in stained windows ; and 
the glow of hot autumn afternoons on 
hillside vineyards was ready to be set 
free and to disperse the fogs of London. 
Insensibly the lawyer melted. There 
was no man from whom he kept fewer 
secrets than Mr. Guest ; and he was 
not always sure that he kept as many as 
he meant. Guest had often been on 
business to the doctor's : he knew 
Poole ; he could scarce have failed to 


hear of Mr. Hyde's familiarity about 
the house ; he might draw conclusions : 
was it not as well, then, that he should 
see a letter which put that mystery to 
rights ? and, above all, since Guest, 
being a great student and critic of 
handwriting, would consider the step 
natural and obliging ? The clerk, be- 
sides, was a man of counsel ; he would 
scarce read so strange a document with- 
out dropping a remark ; and by that 
remark Mr. Utterson might shape his 
future course. 

This is a sad business about Sir 
Danvers," he said. 

Yes, sir, indeed. It has elicted a 
great deal of public feeling/ 5 returned 
Guest. The man, of course, was 


" I should like to hear your views on 
that,* 3 replied Utterson. ! I have a 
document here in his handwriting ; it 
is between ourselves, for I scarce know 
what to do about it ; it is an ugly busi- 
ness at the best. But there it is ; quite 
in your way : a murderer's autograph." 

Guest's eyes brightened, and he sat 
down at once and studied it with 
passion. " No, sir," he said ; ! not 
mad ; but it is an odd hand. >! 

" And by all accounts a very odd 
writer,' 3 added the lawyer. 

Just then the servant entered with a 

" Is that from Dr. Jekyll, sir ? " in- 
quired the clerk. " I thought I knew 
the writing. Anything private, Mr. 
Utterson ? " 


" Only an invitation to dinner. 
Why ? do you want to see it ? ! 

! One moment. I thank you, sir ; ' 
and the clerk laid the two sheets of paper 
alongside and sedulously compared their 
contents. Thank you, sir," he said 
at last, returning both ; ' it's a very 
interesting autograph.' 

There was a pause, during which Mr. 
Utterson struggled with himself. " Why 
did you compare them, Guest ? ! he 
inquired suddenly. 

" Well, sir," returned the clerk 
1 there's a rather singular resemblance ; 
the two hands are in many points 
identical : only differently sloped.' 1 
Rather quaint,' 3 said Utterson. 
It is, as you say, rather quaint, " 
returned Guest, 



"I wouldn't speak of this note, you 
know/ 3 said the master. 

" No, sir," said the clerk. " I under- 

But no sooner was Mr. Utterson alone 
that night, than he locked the note into 
his safe, where it reposed from that 
time forward. " What ! : he thought. 
1 Henry Jekyll forge for a murderer ! ' 
And his blood ran cold in his veins. 



TIME ran on ; thousands of pounds 
were offered in reward, for the death 
of Sir Danvers was resented as a public 
injury ; but Mr. Hyde had disappeared 
out of the ken of the police as though 
he had never existed. Much of his 
past was unearthed, indeed, and all dis- 
reputable : tales came out of the man's 
cruelty, at once so callous and violent, 
of his vile life, of his strange associates, 
of the hatred that seemed to have sur- 
rounded his career ; but of his present 
whereabouts, not a whisper. From the 

time he had left the house in Soho on 



the morning of the murder, he was 
simply blotted out ; and gradually, as 
time drew on, Mr. Utterson began to 
recover from the hotness of his alarm, 
and to grow more at quiet with himself. 
The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way 
of thinking, more than paid for by the 
disappearance of Mr. Hyde. Now that 
that evil influence had been withdrawn, 
a new life began for Dr. Jekyll. He 
came out of his seclusion, renewed 
relations with his friends, became once 
more their familiar guest and enter- 
tainer; and whilst he had always been 
known for charities, he was now no 
less distinguished for religion. He was 
busy, he was much in the open air, 
he did good ; his face seemed to open 
and brighten, as if with an inward 


consciousness of service ; and for more 
than two months the doctor was at 

On the 8th of January Utterson had 
dined at the doctor's with a small party ; 
Lanyon had been there ; and the face 
of the host had looked from one to the 
other as in the old days when the trio 
were inseparable friends. On the 1 2th, 
and again on the I4th, the door was 
shut against the lawyer. " The doctor 
was confined to the house/ 3 Poole said, 
1 and saw no one." On the 1 5th, he 
tried again, and was again refused ; 
and having now been used for the last 
two months to see his friend almost 
daily, he found this return of solitude 
to weigh upon his spirits. The fifth 
night, he had in Guest to dine with him ; 


and the sixth he betook himself to Dr. 

There at least he was not denied 
admittance ; but when he came in, he 
was shocked at the change which had 
taken place in the doctor's appearance. 
He had his death-warrant written legibly 
upon his face. The rosy man had grown 
pale ; his flesh had fallen away ; he was 
visibly balder and older ; and yet it 
was not so much these tokens of a swift 
physical decay that arrested the lawyer's 
notice, as a look in the eye and quality 
of manner that seemed to testify to some 
deep-seated terror of the mind. It 
was unlikely that the doctor should fear 
death ; and yet that was what Utterson 
was tempted to suspect. Yes," he 
thought ; ' he is a doctor, he must 


know his own state and that his days 
are counted ; and the knowledge is 
more than he can bear." And yet 
when Utterson remarked on his ill looks, 
it was with an air of great firmness that 
Lanyon declared himself a doomed 

1 1 have had a shock/ 3 he said, : and 
I shall never recover. It is a question 
of weeks. Well, life has been pleasant ; 
I liked it ; yes, sir, I used to like it. I 
sometimes think if we knew all, we 
should be more glad to get away.' : 

" Jekyll is ill, too/' observed Utter- 
son. ; Have you seen him ? J 

But Lanyon's face changed, and he 
held up a trembling hand. : I wish 
to see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll/ 3 
he said, in a loud, unsteady voice. ( I 


am quite done with that person ; and 
I beg that you will spare me any allusion 
to one whom I regard as dead." 

" Tut, tut ! " said Mr. Utterson ; 


and then, after a considerable pause, 

1 Can't I do anything ? ' he inquired. 

We are three very old friends, Lan- 

yon ; we shall not live to make others." 

Nothing can 'be done," returned 

Lanyon ; " ask himself." 

E He will not see me," said the 


! I am not surprised at that/ 3 was 
the reply. : Some day, Utterson, after 
I am dead, you may perhaps come to 
learn the right and wrong of this. I 
cannot tell you. And in the meantime, 
if you can sit and talk with me of other 
things, for God's sake stay and do so; 


but if you cannot keep clear of this 
accursed topic, then, in God's name, 
go, for I cannot bear it." 

As soon as he got home, Utterson sat 
down and wrote to Jekyll, complaining 
of his exclusion from the house, and 
asking the cause of this unhappy break 
with Lanyon ; and the next day brought 
him a long answer, often very patheti- 
cally worded, and sometimes darkly 
mysterious in drift. The quarrel with 
Lanyon was incurable. ; I do not 
blame our old friend," Jekyll wrote, 

but I share his view that we must 
never meet. I mean from henceforth 
to lead a life of extreme seclusion ; you 
must not be surprised, nor must you 
doubt my friendship, if my door is 
often shut even to you. You must 


suffer me to go my own dark way. I 
have brought on myself a punishment 
and a danger that I cannot name. If 
I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief 
of sufferers also. I could not think 
that this earth contained a place for 
sufferings and terrors so unmanning ; 
and you can do but one thing, Utterson, 
to lighten this destiny, and that is to 
respect my silence." Utterson was 
amazed ; the dark influence of Hyde 
had been withdrawn, the doctor had 
returned to his old tasks and amities : 
a week ago, the prospect had smiled 
with every promise of a cheerful and an 
honoured age ; and now in a moment, 
friendship and peace of mind and the 
whole tenor of his life were wrecked. 
So great and unprepared a change 


pointed to madness ; but in view of 
Lanyon's manner and words, there must 
lie for it some deeper ground. 

A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took 
to his bed, and in something less than 
a fortnight he was dead. The night 
after the funeral, at which he had been 
sadly affected, Utterson locked the door 
of his business room, and sitting there 
by the light of a melancholy candle, 
drew out and set before him an envelope 
addressed by the hand and sealed with 
the seal of his dead friend. " PRIVATE : 
for the hands of J. G. Utterson ALONE, 
and in case of his predecease to be 
destroyed unread" so it was emphatically 
superscribed ; and the lawyer dreaded 
to behold the contents. : I have buried 
one friend to-day/' he thought : " what 


if this should cost me another ? ' And 
then he condemned the fear as a dis- 
loyalty, and broke the seal. Within 
there was another enclosure, likewise 
sealed, and marked upon the cover as 
" not to be opened till the death or 
disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll." 
Utterson could not trust his eyes. Yes, 
it was disappearance ; here again, as in 
the mad will, which he had long ago 
restored to its author, here again were 
the idea of a disappearance and the name 
of Henry Jekyll bracketed. But in the 
will, that idea had sprung from the 
sinister suggestion of the man Hyde ; 
it was set there with a purpose all too 
plain and horrible. Written by the 
hand of Lanyon, what should it mean ? 
A great curiosity came to the trustee, 


to disregard the prohibition, and dive at 
once to the bottom of these mysteries ; 
but professional honour and faith to his 
dead friend were stringent obligations ; 
and the packet slept in the inmost corner 
of his private safe. 

It is one thing to mortify curiosity, 
another to conquer it ; and it may 4 be 
doubted if, from that day forth, Utter- 
son desired the society of his surviving 
friend with the same eagerness. He 
thought of him kindly ; but his thoughts 
were disquieted and fearful. He went 
to call indeed ; but he was perhaps 
relieved to be denied admittance ; per- 
haps, in his heart, he preferred to speak 
with Poole upon the doorstep, and 
surrounded by the air and sounds of 
the open city, rather than to be 


admitted into that house of voluntary 
bondage, and to sit and speak with its 
inscrutable recluse. Poole had, indeed, 
no very pleasant news to communicate. 
The doctor, it appeared, now more than 
ever confined himself to the cabinet 
over the laboratory, where he would 
sometimes even sleep : he was out of 
spirits, he had grown very silent, he did 
not read ; it seemed as if he had some- 
thing on his mind. Utterson .became 


so used to the unvarying character of 
these reports, that he fell off little by 
little in the frequency of his visits. 




IT chanced on Sunday, when Mr. 
Utterson was on his usual walk with Mr. 
Enfield, that their way lay once again 
through the by-street ; and that wnen 
they came in front of the door, both 
stopped to gaze on it. 

" Well," said Enfield, " that story's 
at an end, at least. We shall never see 
more of Mr. Hyde." . 

" I hope not," said Utterson. " Did 
I ever tell you that I once saw him, and 
shared your feeling of repulsion ? ; 

: It was impossible to do the one 

without the other," returned Enfield. 

5 And, by the way, what an ass you must 


have thought me, not to know that 
this was a back way to Dr. Jekyll's ! 
It was partly your own fault that I 
found it out, even when I did." 

: So you found it out, did you ? ! 
said Utterson. But if that be so, we 
may step into the court and take a 
look at the windows. To tell you 
the truth, I am uneasy about poor 
Jekyll ; and even outside, I feel as if 
the presence of a friend might do him 

The court was very cool and a little 
damp, and full of premature twilight, 
although the sky, high up overhead, 
was still bright with sunset. The middle 
one of the three windows was half-way 
open ; and sitting close beside it, taking 
the air with an infinite sadness of mien, 


like some disconsolate prisoner, Utter- 
son saw Dr. Jekyll. 

" What 1 Jekyll ! Jekyll ! " he cried. 
! I trust you are better." 

I am very low, Utterson," replied 
the doctor drearily ; very low. It 
will not last long, thank God." 

You stay too much indoors/ 3 said 
the lawyer. You should be out, 
whipping up the circulation, like Mr. 
Enfield and me. (This is my cousin 
Mr. Enfield Dr. Jekyll.) Come now ; 
get your hat, and take a quick turn with 


You are very good," sighed the 
other. I should like to very much ; 
but no, no, no ; it is quite impossible ; 
I dare not. But indeed, Utterson, I am 
very glad to see you ; this is really a 


great pleasure. I would ask you and 
Mr. Enfield up, but the place is really 
not fit." 

Why, then,' 3 said the lawyer, good- 
naturedly, ; the best thing we can do 
is to stay down here, and speak with 
you from where we are." 

That is just what I w r as about to 
venture to propose," returned the doctor, 
with a smile, But the words were hardly 
uttered, before the smile was struck out 
of his face and succeeded by an expres- 
sion of such abject terror and despair, 
as froze the very blood of the two 
gentlemen below. They saw it but 
for a glimpse, for the window was 
instantly thrust down ; but that glimpse 
had been sufficient, and they turned 
and left the court without a word. In 


silence, too, they traversed the by- 
street ; and it was not until they had 
come into a neighbouring thoroughfare, 
where even upon a Sunday there were 
still some stirrings of life, that Mr. Utter- 
son at last turned and looked at his com- 
panion. They were both pale ; and 
there was an answering horror in their 

' God forgive us ! God forgive us ! ' 
said Mr. Utterson. 

But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head 
very seriously, and walked on once more 
in silence. 



MR. UTTERSON was sitting by his fire- 
side one evening after dinner, when he 
was surprised to receive a visit from 


Bless me, Poole, what, brings you 
here ? ! he cried ; and then, taking a 
second look at him, What ails you ? : 
he addled ; " is the doctor ill ? " 

" Mr. Utterson," said the man, " there 
is something wrong.' 

Take a seat, and here is a glass of 
wine for you," said the lawyer. Now, 
take your time, and tell me plainly what 


you want. 

You know the doctor's ways, sir/ 5 



replied Poole, ' and how he shuts him- 
self up. Well, he's shut up again in 

the cabinet ; and I don't like it, sir I 
wish I may die if I like it. Mr. Utter- 
son, sir, I'm afraid.' : 

! Now, my good man/ 1 said the 
lawyer, be explicit. What are you 
afraid of ? " 

I've been afraid for about a week," 


returned Poole, doggedly disregarding 
the question ; c and I can bear it no 

more. 1 

The man's appearance amply bore 
out his words ; his manner was altered 
for the worse : and except for the 
moment when he had first announced 
his terror, he had not once looked the 

lawyer in the face. Even now, he sat 


with the glass of wine untasted on his 


knee, and his eyes directed to a corner 
of the floor. : I can bear it no more," 
he repeated. 

" Come," said the lawyer, : I see you 
have some good reason, Poole ; I see 
there is something seriously amiss. Try 
to tell me what it is." 

[ I think there's been foul play," 
said Poole, hoarsely. 

Foul play ! ! cried the lawyer, a 
good deal frightened, and rather inclined 
to be irritated in consequence. What 
foul play ? What does the man mean ? ' 
I daren't say, sir," was the answer ; 
but will you come along with me and 
see for yourself ? 

Mr. Utterson's only answer was to 
rise and get his hat and great coat ; but 
he observed with wonder the greatness 


of the relief that appeared upon the 
butler's face, and perhaps with no less, 
that the wine was still untasted when 
he set it down to follow. 

It was a wild, cold, seasonable night 
of March, with a pale moon, lying on 
her back as though the wind had tilted 
her, and a flying wrack of the most 
diaphanous and lawny texture. The 
wind made talking difficult, and flecked 
the blood into the face. It seemed to 
have swept the streets unusually bare of 
passengers, besides ; for Mr. Utterson 
thought he had never/ seen that part of 
London so deserted. He could have 
wished it otherwise ; never in his life 
had he been conscious of so sharp a 
wish to see and touch his fellow- 
creatures ; for, struggle as he might, 


there was borne in upon his mind a 
crushing anticipation of calamity. The 
square, when tbey got there, was all full 
of wind and dust, and the thin trees in 
the garden were lashing themselves 
along the railing. Poole, who had kept 
all the way a pace or two ahead, now 
pulled up in the middle of the pavement, 
and in spite of the biting weather, took 
off his hat and mopped his brow with a 
red pocket-handkerchief. But for all 
the hurry of his coming, these were not 
the dews of exertion that he wiped away, 
but the moisture of some strangling 
anguish ; for his face was white, and 
his voice, when he spoke, harsh and 

Well, sir," he said, here we are, 
and God grant there be nothing wrong/ 5 


" Amen, Poolc, >! said the lawyer. 

Thereupon the servant knocked in a 
very guarded manner > the door was 
opened on the chain ; and a voice asked 

from within, " Is that you, Poole ? ' 


" It's all right," said Poole. " Open 
the door." 

The hall, when they entered it, was 
brightly lighted up ; the fire was built 
high ; and about the hearth the whole 
of the servants, men and women, stood 
huddled together like a flock of sheep. 
At the sight of Mr. Utterson, the house- 
maid broke into hysterical whimpering ; 
and the cook, crying out, Bless God ! 
it's Mr. Utterson," ran forward as if to 
take him in her arms. 

" What, what ? Are you all here ? " 
said the lawyer, peevishly. " Very 


irregular, very unseemly ; your master 
would be far from pleased/ 

" They're all afraid," said Poole. 

Blank silence followed, no one pro- 
testing ; only the maid lifted up her 
voice, and now wept loudly. 

Hold your tongue ! : Poole said to 
her, with a ferocity of accent that testified 
to his own jangled nerves ; and indeed 
when the girl had so suddenly raised the 
note of her lamentation, they had all 
started and turned towards the innfjr 
door with faces of dreadful expectation. 
1 And now,' 3 continued the butler, 
addressing the knife-boy, reach me a 
candle, and we'll get this through hands 
at once.' : And then he begged Mr. 
Utterson to follow him, and led the way 
to the back garden. 


c Now, sir," said he, you come as 
gently as you can. I want you to 
hear, and I don't want you to be 
heard. And see here, sir, if by any 
chance he was to ask you in, don't 


Mr. Utterson's nerves, at this un- 
looked-for termination, gave a jerk that 
nearly threw him from his balance ; but 
he re-collected his courage, and followed 


the butler into the laboratory building 
add through the surgical theatre, with 
its lumber of crates and bottles, to the 
foot of the stair. Here Poole motioned 
him to stand on one side and listen ; 
while he himself, setting down the 
candle and making a great and obvious 
call on his resolution, mounted the 
steps, and knocked with a somewhat 


uncertain hand on the red baize of the 
cabinet door. 

' Mr. Utterson, sir, asking to see 
you/ 3 he called ; and even as he did so, 
once more violently signed to the lawyer 
to give ear. 

A voice answered from within : ' Tell 
him I cannot see any one," it said, 

Thank you, sir," said Poole, with a 
note of something like triumph in his 
voice ; and taking up his candle, he led 
Mr. Utterson back across the yard and 
into the great kitchen, where the fire 
was out and the beetles w r ere leaping on 
the floor. 

1 Sir," he said, looking Mr. Utterson 
in the eyes, ; was that my master's 


It seemed much changed/' replied 
the lawyer, very pale, but giving look 
for look. 

" Changed ? Well, yes, I think so," 
said the butler. ; Have I been twenty 
years in this man's house, to be deceived 
about his voice ? No, sir ; master's 
made away with ; he was made away 
with eight days ago, when, we heard 
him cry out upon the name of God ; 
and isoho's in there instead of him, and 
'why it stays there, is a thing that cries 
to Heaven, Mr. Utterson ! " 

That is a very strange tale, Poole ; 
this is rather a wild tale, my man," 
said Mr. Utterson, biting his finger. 
; Suppose it were as you suppose, sup- 
posing Dr. Jekyll to have been well, 
murdered, what could induce the 


murderer to stay'? That won't hold 
water ; it doesn't commend itself to 


" Well, Mr. Utterson, you are a hard 
man to satisfy, but I'll do it yet," said 
Poole. ! All this last week (you must 
know) him, or it, or whatever it is that 
lives in that cabinet, has been crying 
night and day for some sort of medicine 
and cannot get it to his mind. It was 
sometimes his 'way the master's, that 
is to write his orders on a sheet of paper 
and throw it on the stair. We've had 
nothing else this week back ; nothing 
but papers, and a closed door, and the 
very meals left there to be smuggled 
in when nobody was looking. Well, sir, 
every day, ay, and twice and thrice in the 
same day, there have been orders and 


complaints, and I have been sent flying 
to all the wholesale chemists in town. 
Every time I brought the stuff back, 
there would be another paper telling me 
to return it, because it was not pure, and 
another order to a different firm. This 
drug is wanted bitter bad, sir, whatever 

Have you any of these papers ? : 
asked Mr. Utterson. 

Poole felt in his pocket and handed 
but a crumpled note, which the lawyer, 
bending nearer to the candle, carefully 
examined. Its contents ran thus : Dr. 
Jekyll presents his compliments to 
Messrs. Maw. He assures them that 
their last sample is impure and quite 
useless for his present purpose. In the 
year i 8 , Dr. J. purchased a somewhat 


large quantity from Messrs. M. He 
now begs them to search with the most 
sedulous care, and should any of the 
same quality be left, to forward it to him 
at once. Expense is no consideration. 
The importance of this to Dr. J. can 
hardly be exaggerated." So far the 
letter had run composedly enough ; 
but here, with a sudden splutter of the 
pen, the writer's emotion had broken 
loose. " For God's sake," he had added, 
! find me some of the old." 

This is a strange note/ 3 said Mr. 
Utterson ; and then, sharply, ! How 
do you come to have it open ? ' 

The man at Maw's was main angry, 
sir, and he threw it back to me like so 
much dirt/ 3 returned Poole. 

This is unquestionably the doctor's 


hand, do you know? 3 resumed the 

" I thought it looked like it," said 
the servant, rather sulkily ; and then, 
with another voice, But what matters 
hand of write ? J he said. " I've seen 
him ! " 

" Seen him ? " repeated Mr. Utter-' 
son. "Well?" 

" That's it ! " said Poole. " It was 
this way. I came suddenly into the 
theatre from the garden. It seems he 
had slipped out to look for this drug, or 
whatever it is ; for the cabinet door was 
open, and there he was at the far end of 
the room, digging among the crates. 
He looked up when I came in, gave a 
kind of cry, and whipped upstairs into 
the cabinet. It was but for one minute 


that I saw him, but the hair stood upon 
my head like quills. Sir, if that was 
my master, why had he a mask upon his 
face ? If it was my master, why did he 
cry out like a rat, and run from me ? 
I have served him long enough. And 
then . . ." the man paused, and passed 
his hand over his face. 

These are all very strange circum- 
stances/ 3 said Mr.. Utterson, " but I 
think I begin to see daylight. Your 
master, Poole, is plainly seized with 
one of those maladies that both torture 
and deform the sufferer ; hence, for 
aught I know, the alteration of his 
voice ; hence the mask and his avoid- 
ance of his friends ; hence his eagerness 
to find this drug, by means of which 
the poor soul retains some hope of 


ultimate recovery God grant that he 
be -not deceived ! There is my explana- 
tion ; it is sad enough, Poole, ay, and 
appalling to consider ; but it is plain 
and natural, hangs well together, and 
delivers us from all exorbitant alarms. 13 
: Sir," said the butler, turning to a 
sort of mottled pallor, ! that thing was 
not my master, and there's the truth. 
My master " here he looked round 
Tiim, and began to whisper " is a tall 
fine build of a man, and this was more 
of a dwarf." Utterson attempted to 
protest. ' Oh, sir/ 3 cried Poole, * do 
you think I do not know my master 
after twenty years ? do you think I do 
not know where his head comes to in 
the cabinet door, w r here I saw him every 
morning of my life ? No, sir, that thing 


was never Dr. Jekyll God knows what 
it was, but it was never Dr. Jekyll ; and 
it is the belief of my heart that there was 
murder done." 

Poole," replied the lawyer, : if you 
say that, it will become my duty to make 
certain. Much as I desire to spare your 
master's feelings, much as I am puzzled 
by this note, which seems to prove him 
to be still alive, I shall consider it my 
duty to break in that door.' 3 

" Ah, Mr. Utterson, that's talking ! " 
cried the butler. 

; And now comes the second ques- 
tion," resumed Utterson : " Who is 
going to do it ? : 

Why, you and me, sir," was the 
undaunted reply. 

That is very well said/ 3 returned 


the lawyer ; ' and whatever comes of 
it, I shall make it my business to see you 
are no loser. " 

There is an axe in the theatre/ 1 
continued Poole ; : and you might 
take the kitchen poker for yourself." 

The lawyer took that rude but 
weighty instrument into his hand, and 
balanced it. Do you know, Poole,' 3 
he said, looking up, ! that you and I 
are about to place ourselves in a position 
of some peril ? ! 

You may say so, x sir, indeed/ 3 
returned the butler. 

It is well, then, that we should be 
frank/' said the other. " We both 
think more than we have said ; let us 
make a clean breast. This masked figure 
that you saw, did you recognise it ? ! 


" Well, sir, it went so quick, and the 
creature was so doubled up, that I could 
hardly swear to that/ 3 was the answer. 
" But if you mean, was it Mr. Hyde ? 
why, yes, I think it was ! You see, it 
was much of the same bigness ; and it 
had the same quick light way with it ; 
and then who else could have got in 
by the laboratory door ? You have not 
forgot, sir, that at the time of the 
murder he had still the key with him ? 
But that's not all. I don't know, Mr. 
Utterson, if ever you met this Mr. 
Hyde ? " 

Yes/ 3 said the lawyer, I once 
spoke \^ith him.' : 

Then you must know, as well as the 
rest of us, that there was something 
queer about that gentleman something 


that gave a man a turn I don't know 
rightly how to say it, sir, beyond this : 
that you felt it in your marrow kind 
of cold and thin." 

1 I own I felt something of what you 
describe/ 3 said Mr. Utterson. 

' Quite so, sir," returned Poole. 
Well, when that masked thing like 
a monkey jumped from among the 
chemicals and whipped into the cabinet, 
it went down my spine like ice. Oh, 
I know it's not evidence, Mr. Utterson ; 
I'm book-learned enough for that ; 
but a man has his feelings ; and I give 
you my bible-word it was Mr. Hyde ! 

" Ay, ay," said the lawyer.. " My 
fears incline to the same point. Evil I 
fear, founded evil was sure to come 
of that connection. Ay, truly, I believe 


you ; I believe poor Harry is killed ; 

and I believe his murderer (for what 
purpose, God alone can tell) is still 
lurking in his victim's roam. Well, 
let our name be vengeance. Call Brad- 

The footman came at the summons, 
very white and nervous. 

Pull yourself together, Bradshaw," 
said the lawyer. This suspense* I 
know, is telling upon all of you ; but 
it is now our intention to make an end 
of it. Poole, here, and I are going to 
force our way into the cabinet. If all 
is well, my shoulders are broad enough 
to bear the blame. Meanwhile, lest 
anything should really be amiss, or any 
malefactor seek to escape by the back, 
you and the boy must go round the 


corner with a pair of good sticks, and 
take your post at the laboratory door. 
We give you ten minutes to get to your 
stations.' 1 

As Bradshaw left, the lawyer looked 
at his watch. ! And now, Poole, let 
us get to ours,'* he said ; and taking the 
poker under his arm, he led the way 
into the yard. The scud had banked 
over the moon, and it was now quite 
dark. The wind, which only broke in 
puffs and draughts into that deep well 
of building, tossed the light of the 
candle to and fro about their steps, 
until they came into the shelter of the 
theatre, where they sat down silently to 
wait. London hummed solemnly all 
around ; but nearer at hand, the still- 
ness was only broken by the sound of a 


footfall moving to and fro along the 
cabinet floor. 


" So it will walk all day, sir/ 5 whis- 
pered Poole ; ' ay, and the better part 
of the night. Only when a new sample 
comes from the chemist, there's a bit 
of a break. Ah, it's an ill conscience 
that's such an enemy to rest ! Ah, 
sir, there's blood foully shed in every 
step of it ! But hark again, a little 
closer put your heart in your ears, 
Mr. Utterson, and tell me, is that the 
doctor's foot ? " 

The steps fell lightly and oddly, with 
a certain swing, for all they went so 
slowly ; it was different indeed from 
the heavy creaking tread of Henry 
Jekyll. Utterson sighed. " Is there 

never anything else ? ' 'he asked. 
DR.J. F 


Poole nodded. ; Once/ 1 he said. 
; Once I heard it weeping ! ; 

" Weeping ? how that ? ' said the 
lawyer, conscious of a sudden chill of 

Weeping like a woman or a lost 

soul/ said the butler. " I came away 


with that upon my heart, that I could 
have wept too." 

But now the ten minutes drew to an 
end. Poole disinterred the axe from 
under a stack of packing straw ; the 
candle was set upon the nearest table to 
light them to the attack ; and they 
drew near with bated breath to where 
that patient foot was still going up and 
down, up and down in the quiet of the 

Jekyll/' cried Utterson, with a loud 


voice, I demand to see you." He 
paused a moment, but there came no 
reply. : I give you fair warning, our 
suspicions are aroused, and I must and 
shall see you," he resumed ; c if not by 
fair means, then by foul if not of your 
consent, then by brute force ! 

Utterson," said the voice, ' for 
God's sake, have mercy ! : 

" Ah, that's not Jekyll's voice it's 
Hyde's ! ' ' cried Utterson. ' Down with 
the door, Poole ! " 

Poole swung the axe over his shoulder; 
the blow shook the building, and the 
red baize door leaped against the lock 
and hinges. A dismal screech, 'as of 
mere animal terror, rang from the 
cabinet. Up went the axe again, and 
again the panels crashed and the frame 


hounded ; four times the blow fell ; 
but the wood was tough and the fittings 
were of excellent workmanship ; and 
it was not until the fifth, that the lock 
burst in sunder, and the wreck of the 
door fell inwards on the carpet. 

The besiegers, appalled by their own 
riot and the stillness that had succeeded, 
stood back a little and peered in. There 
lay the cabinet before their eyes in the 
quiet lamplight, a good fire glowing and 
chattering on the hearth, the kettle 
singing its thin strain, a drawer or two 
open, papers neatly set forth on the 
business table, and nearer the fire, the 
things laid out for tea : the quietest 
room, you would have said, and, but for 
the glazed presses full of chemicals, the 
most commonplace that night in London. 


Right in the midst there lay the body 
of a man sorely contorted and still 
twitching. They drew near on tiptoe, 
turned it on his back, and beheld the 
face of Edward Hyde. He was dressed 
in clothes far too large for him, clothes 
of the doctor's bigness ; the cords of his 
face still moved with a semblance of life, 
but life was quite gone ; and by the 
crushed phial in the hand and the strong 
smell of "kernels that hung upon the 
air, Utterson knew that he was looking 
on the body of a self-destroyer. 

We have come too late," he said 
sternly, whether to save or punish. 
Hyde is gone to his account ; and it 
only remains for us to find the body of 
your master." 

The far greater proportion of the 


building was occupied by the theatre, 
which filled almost the whole ground 
storey, and was lighted from above, and 
by the cabinet, which formed an upper 
storey at one end and looked upon the 
court. A corridor joined the theatre 
to the door on the by-street ; and with 
this, the cabinet communicated separ- 
ately by a second flight of stairs. There 
were besides a few dark closets and a 
spacious cellar. All these they now 
thoroughly examined. Each closet 
needed but a glance, for all were empty, 
and all, by the dust that fell from their 
doors, had stood long unopened. The 
cellar, indeed, was filled with crazy 
lumber, mostly dating from the times 
of the surgeon who was Jekyll's pre- 
decessor ; but even as they opened the 


door, they were advertised of the use- 
lessness of further search, by the fall of 
a perfect mat of cobweb which had for 
years sealed up the entrance. No- 
where was there any trace of Henry 
Jekyll, dead or alive. 

Poole stamped on the flags of the cor- 
ridor. : He must be buried here/ 3 he 
said, hearkening to the sound. 

" Or he may have fled/ 3 said Utter- 
son, and he turned to examine, the door 
in the by-street. It was locked ; and 
lying near by on the flags, they found 
the key, already stained with rust. 

This does not look like use/ 3 ob- 
served the lawyer. 

" Use ! " echoed Poole. " Do you 
not see, sir, it is broken ? much as if a 
man had stamped on it." 


; Ah," continued Utterson, ! and the 

fractures, too, are rusty. >: The two men 

looked at each other with a scare. This 

is beyond me, Poole," said the lawyer. 

Let us go back to the cabinet. " 


They mounted the stair in silence, 
and still, with an occasional awestruck 
glance at the dead body, proceeded 
more thoroughly to examine the con- 
tents of the cabinet. At one table, there 
were traces of chemical work, various 
measured heaps of some white salt being 
laid on glass saucers, as though for an 
experiment in which the unhappy man 
had been prevented. 

This is the same drug that I was 
always bringing him/ 3 said Poole ; and 
even as he spoke, the kettle with a 
startling noise boiled over. 


This brought them to the fireside, 
where the easy chair was drawn cosily 
up, and the tea things stood ready to the 
sitter's elbow, the very sugar in the cup. 
There were several books on a shelf ; 
one lay beside the tea things open, and 
Utterson was amazed to find it a copy of 

t> % 

a pious work, for which Jekyll had 
several times expressed a great esteem, 
annotated, in his own hand, with start- 
ling blasphemies. 

Next, in the course of their review of 
the chamber, the searchers came to the 
cheval glass, into whose depth they 
looked with an involuntary horror. 
But it was so turned as to show them 
nothing but the rosy glow playing on 
the roof, the fire sparkling in a hundred 
repetitions along the glazed front of the 


presses, and their own pale and fearful 
countenances stooping to look in. 

This glass has seen some strange 
things, sir/ 5 whispered Poole. 

; And surely none stranger than 
itself/ 3 echoed the lawyer, in the same 

tone. " For what did Jekyll "he 

caught himself up at the word with a 
start, and then conquering the weak- 
ness : ! what could Jekyll want with 
it ? ! he said. 


You may say that ! said Poole. 
Next they turned to the business 
table. On the desk among the neat 
array of papers, a large envelope was 
uppermost, and bore, in the doctor's 
hand, the name of Mr. Utterson. The 
lawyer unsealed it, and several en- 
closures fell to the floor. The first was 



a will, drawn in the same eccentric 
terms as the one which he had returned 
six months before, to serve as a testa- 
ment in case of death and as a deed of 
gift in case of disappearance ; but in 
place of the name of Edward Hyde, the 
lawyer, with indescribable amazement, 
read the name of Gabriel John Utterson. 
He looked at Poole, and then back at 
the papers, and last of all at the dead 
malefactor stretched upon the carpet. 
: My head goes round/ 3 he said. 
! He has been all these days in posses- 
sion ; he had no cause to like me ; he 
must have raged to see himself displaced ; 
and he has not destroyed this document." 
He caught the next paper ;' it was a 
brief note in the doctor's hand, and 
dated at the top. " Oh, Poole ! " the 


lawyer cried, he was alive and here 
this day. He cannot have been dis- 
posed of in so -short a space ; he must 
be still alive, he must have fled ! And 
then, why fled ? and how ? and in that 
case can we venture to declare this 
suicide ? Oh, we must be careful. I 
foresee that we may yet involve your 
master in some dire catastrophe.' 

Why don't you read it, sir? 1 
asked Poole. 

Because I fear,' 3 replied the lawyer, 
solemnly. God grant I have no cause 
for it 1 " And with that he brought the 
paper to his eye, and read as follows : 

shall fall into your hands, I shall have 
disappeared, under what circumstances I 


have not the penetration to foresee ; 
but my instincts and all the circum- 
stances of my nameless situation tell me 
that the end is sure and must be early. 
Go then, and first read the narrative 
which Lanyon warned me he was to 
place in your hands ; and if you care 
to hear more, turn to the confession of 

Your unworthy and unhappy friend, 


There was a third enclosure ? 
asked Utterson. 

! Here, sir,' 3 said Poole, and gave 
into his hands a considerable packet 
sealed in several places. 

The lawyer put it in his pocket. I 
would say nothing of this paper. If 
your master has fled or is dead, we may 


at least save his credit. It is now* ten ; 
I must go home and read these docu- 
ments in quiet ; but I shall be back 
before midnight, when we shall send for 
the police. >: 

They went out, locking the door of 
the theatre behind them ; and Utter- 
son, once more leaving the servants 
gathered about the fire in the hall, 
trudged back to his office to read the 
two narratives in which this mystery 
was now to be explained. 



ON the ninth of January, now four days 
ago, I received by the evening delivery 
a registered envelope, addressed in the 
hand of my colleague and old school- 
companion, Henry Jekyll. I was a 
good deal surprised by this ; for we were 
by no means in the habit of correspon- 
dence ; I had seen the man, dined with 
him, indeed, the night before ; and I 
could imagine nothing in our inter- 
course that should justify the formality 
of registration. The contents increased 
my wonder ; for this is how the letter 

ran : 



icth December, 18 - - 

' DEAR LANYON, You are one of my 
oldest friends ; and although we may 
have differed at times on scientific 
questions, I cannot remember, at least 
on my side, any break in our affection. 
There was never a day when, if you had 
said to me, ' Jekyll, my life, my honour, 
my reason, depend upon you,' I would 
not have sacrificed my fortune or my 
left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, 
my honour, my reason, are all at your 
mercy ; if you fail me to-night, I am 
lost. You might suppose, after this 
preface, that I am going to ask you 
for something dishonourable to grant. 
Judge for yourself. 

1 I want you to postpone all other^ 
engagements for to-night ay, eYn if 


you were summoned to the bedside of 
an emperor ; to take a cab, unless your 
carriage should be actually at the door ; 
and, with this letter in your hand for 
consultation, to drive straight to my 
house. Poole, my butler, has his orders; 
you will find him waiting your arrival 
with a locksmith. The door of my 


cabinet is then to be forced ; and you 
are to go in alone ; to open the glazed 
press (letter E) on the left hand, breaking 
the lock if it be shut ; and to draw out, 
with all its contents as they stand, the 
fourth drawer from the top or (which 
is the same thing) the third from the 
bottom. In my extreme distress of 
mind, I have a morbid fear of mis- 
directing you ; but even if I am in 
error, you may know the right drawer 



by its contents : some powders, a phial, 
and a paper book. This drawer I beg 
of you to carry back with you to 
Cavendish Square exactly as it stands. 
That is the first -part of the service : 
now for the second. You^ should be 
back, if you set out at once on the 
receipt of this, long before midnight ; 
but I will leave you that amount of 
margin, not only in the fear of one of 
those obstacles that can neither be pre- 
vented nor foreseen, but because an 
hour when your servants are in bed is 
to be preferred for what will then 
remain to do. At midnight, then, I 
have to ask you to be alone in your 
consulting room, to admit with your 
own hand into the house a man who 
will present himself in my name, and to 


place in his hands the drawer that you 
will have brought with you from my 
cabinet. Then you will have played 
your part, and earned my gratitude 
completely. Five minutes afterwards, 
if you insist upon an explanation, you 
will have understood that these arrange- 
ments are of capital importance ; and 
that by the neglect of one of them, 
fantastic as they must appear, you might 
have charged your conscience with my 
death or the shipwreck of my reason. 

: Confident as I am that you will not 
trifle with this appeal, my heart sinks 
and my hand trembles at the bare 
thought of such a possibility. Think 
of me at this hour, in a strange place, 
labouring under a blackness of distress 
that no fancy can exaggerate, and yet 


well aware that, if you will but punctu- 
ally serve me, my troubles will roll away 
like a story that is told. Serve me, my 
dear Lanyon, and save 

Your friend, 

" H. J. 

P.S. I had already sealed this up 
when a fresh terror struck upon my soul. 
It is possible that the post office may fail 
me, and this letter not come into your 
hands until to-morrow morning. In 
that case, dear Lanyon, do my errand 
when it shall be most convenient for 
you in the course of the day ; and 
once more expect my messenger at mid- 
night. It may then already be too 
late ; and if that night passes without 
event, you will know that you have 
seen the last of Henry Jekyll," 


Upon the reading of this letter, I 
made sure my colleague was insane ; 
but till that was proved beyond the 
possibility of doubt, I felt bound to do 
as he requested. The less I under- 
stood of this farrago, the less I was in a 
position to judge of its importance ; 
and an appeal so worded could not be 
set aside without a grave responsibility. 
I rose accordingly from table, got into 
a hansom, and drove straight to Jekyll's 
house. The butler was awaiting my 
arrival ; he had received by the same 
post as mine a registered letter of in- 
struction, and had sent at once for a 
locksmith and a carpenter. The trades- 
men came while we were yet speaking ; 
and we moved in a bodv to old Dr. 


Denman's surgical theatre, from which 



(as you are doubtless aware) Jekyll's 
private cabinet is most conveniently 
entered. The door was very strong, 
the lock excellent ; the carpenter 
avowed he would have great trouble, 
and have to do much damage, if force 
were to be used ; and the locksmith 
was near despair. But this last was a 
handy fellow, and after two hours' work, 
the door stood open. The press marked 
E was unlocked ; and I took out the 
drawer, had it filled up with straw and 
tied in a sheet, and returned with it to 
Cavendish Square. 

Here I proceeded to examine its 
contents. The powders were neatly 
enough made up, but not with the nicety 
of the dispensing chemist ; so that it 
was plain they were of Jekyll's private 


manufacture ; and when I opened one 
of the wrappers, I found what seemed to 
me a simple crystalline salt of a white 
colour. The phial, to which I next 
turned my attention, might have been 
about half full of a blood-red liquor, 
which was highly pungent to the sense 
of smell, and seemed to me to contain 
phosphorus and some volatile ether. At 
the other ingredients I could make 
no guess. The book was an ordinary 
version book, and contained little but a 
series of dates. These covered a period 
of many years ; but I observed that 
the entries ceased nearly a year ago, and 
quite abruptly. Here and there a brief 
remark was appended to a date, usually 
no more than a single word : " double ' 
occurring perhaps six times in a total of 


several hundred entries ; and once very 
early in the list, and followed by several 
marks of exclamation, [ total fail- 
ure !!! " All this, though it whetted 
my curiosity, told me little that was 
definite. Here were a phial of some 
tincture, a paper of some salt, and the 
record of a series of experiments that 
had led (like too many of Jekyll's in- 
vestigations) to no end of practical use- 
fulness. How could the presence of 
these articles in my house affect either 
the honour, the sanity, or the life of 
my flighty colleague ? If his messenger 
could go to one place, why could he not 
go to another ? And even granting 
some impediment, why was this gentle- 
man to be received by me in secret ? 
The more I reflected, the more 


convinced I grew that I was dealing with 
a case of cerebral disease ; and though 
I dismissed my servants to bed, I loaded 
an old revolver, that I might be found 
in some posture of self-defence. 

Twelve o'clock had scarce rung out 
over London, ere the knocker sounded 
very gently on the door. I went my- 
self at the summons, and found a small 
man crouching against the pillars of 
the portico. 

1 Are you come from Dr. Jekyll ? ! 
I asked. 

He told me "yes" by a constrained ges- 
ture ; and when I had bidden him enter, 
he did not obey me without a searching 
backward glance into the darkness of the 
square. There was a policeman not far 
off, advancing with his bull's-eye open ; 


and at the sight, I thought my visitor 
started and made greater haste. 

These particulars struck me, I confess, 
disagreeably ; and as I followed him into 
the bright light of the consulting room, 
I kept my hand ready on my weapon. 
Here, at last, I had a chance of clearly 
seeing him. I had never set eyes on 
him before, so much was certain. He 
was small, as I have said ; I was struck 
besides with the shocking expression of 
his face, with his remarkable combina- 
tion of great muscular activity and 
great apparent debility of constitution, 
and last but not least with the odd, 
subjective disturbance caused by his 
neighbourhood. This bore some re- 
semblance to incipient rigor, and was 
accompanied by a marked sinking of 


the pulse. At the time, I set it down to 
some idiosyncratic, personal distaste, 
and merely wondered at the acuteness 
of the symptoms ; but I have since had 
reason to believe the cause to lie much 
deeper in the nature of man, and to 
turn on some nobler hinge than the 
principle of hatred. 

This person (who had thus, from the 
first moment of his entrance, struck in 
me what I can only describe as a dis- 
gustful curiosity) was dressed in a fashion 
that would have made an ordinary 
person laughable ; his clothes, that is 
to say, although they were of rich and 
sober fabric, were enormously too large 
for him in every measurement the 
trousers hanging on his legs and rolled 
up to keep them from the ground, the 


waist of the coat below his haunches, 
and the collar sprawling wide upon his 
shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludi- 
crous accoutrement was far from moving 
me to laughter. Rather, as there was 
something abnormal and mis-begotten 
in the very essence of the creature that 
now faced me something seizing, sur- 
prising and revolting this fresh dis- 
parity seemed but to fit in with and to 
reinforce it ; so that to my interest in the 


man's nature and character, there was 
added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, 
his fortune and status in the world. 

These observations, though they have 
taken so great a space to be set down 
in, were yet the work of a few seconds. 
My visitor was, indeed, on fire with 
sombre excitement. 


' Have you got it ? >: he cried. ' Have 
you got it ? 3 And so lively was his im- 
patience that he even laid his hand upon 
my arm and sought to shake me. 

I put him back, conscious at his touch 
of a certain icy pang along my blood. 
1 Come, sir/ 3 said I. You forget 
that I have not yet trie pleasure of your 
acquaintance. Be seated, if you please.' 1 
And I showed him an example, and sat 
down myself in my customary seat and 
with as fair an imitation of my ordinary 
manner to a patient, as the lateness of 
the hour, the nature of my pre-occupa- 
tions, and the horror I had of my visitor, 
would suffer me to muster. 

! I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon," 
he replied, civilly enough. <v What you 
say is very well founded ; and my 


impatience has shown its heels to my 
politeness. I come here at the instance 
of your colleague, Dr. Henry Jekyll, 
on a piece of business of some moment ; 
and I understood . . , >: he paused and 
put his hand to his throat, and I could 
see, in spite of his collected manner, 
that he was wrestling against the ap- 
proaches of the hysteria " I under- 
stood, a drawer . . ." 

But here I took pity on my visitor's 
. suspense, and some perhaps on my own 

growing curiosity. 

There it is, sir,' 3 said I, pointing to 
the drawer, where it lay on the floor 
behind a table, and still covered with 
the sheet. 

He sprang to it, and then paused, and 
laid his hand upon his heart ; I could 


hear his teeth grate with the convulsive 
action of his jaws ; and his face was so 
ghastly to see that I grew alarmed both 
for his life and reason. 

" Compose yourself," said I. 

He turned a dreadful smile to me, and, 


as if with the decision of despair, plucked 
away the sheet. At sight of the con- 
tents, he uttered one loud sob of such 
immense relief that I sat petrified. And 
the next moment, in a voice that was 
already fairly well under control, "Have 
you a graduated glass ? J he asked. 

I rose from my place with something of 
an effort, and gave him what he asked. 

He thanked me with a smiling nod, 
measured out a few minims of the red 
tincture and added one of the powders. 
The mixture, which was at first of a 


reddish hue, began, in proportion as 
the crystals melted, to brighten in 
colour, to effervesce audibly, and to 
throw off small fumes of vapour. Sud- 
denly, and at the same moment, the 
ebullition ceased, and the compound 
changed to a dark purple, which faded 
again more slowly to a watery green. 
My visitor, who had watched these 
metamorphoses with a keen eye, smiled, 
set down the glass upon the table, and 
then turned and looked upon me with 
an air of scrutiny. 

1 And now/ 5 said he, ' to settle what 
remains. Will you be wise ? will you 
be guided ? will you suffer me to take 
this glass in my hand, and to go forth 
from your house without further parley? 
or has the greed of curiosity too much 


command of you ? Think before you 
answer, for it shall be done as you 
decide. As you decide, you shall be 
left as you were before, and neither 
richer nor wiser, unless the sense of 
service rendered to a man in mortal 
distress may be counted as a kind of 
riches of the soul. Or, if you shall 
so prefer to choose, a new province of 
knowledge and new avenues to fame 
and power shall be laid open to you, 
here, in this room, upon the instant ; and 
your sight shall be blasted by a prodigy 
to stagger the'" unbelief of Satan." 

1 Sir," said I, affecting a coolness 

that I was far from truly possessing, 

you speak enigmas, and you will 

perhaps not wonder that I hear you 

with no very strong impression of belief. 


But I have gone too far in the way of 
inexplicable services to pause before I 
see the end." 

' It is well/ 5 replied my visitor. 

Lanyon, you remember your vows : 
what follows is under the seal of our 
profession. And now, you who have 
so long been bound to the most narrow 
and material views, you who have 
denied the virtue of transcendental 
medicine, you who have derided your 
superiors behold ! ' 

He put the glass to his lips, and 
drank at one gulp. ^ cry followed ; 
he reeled, staggered, clutched at the 
table and held on, staring with injected 
eyes, gasping with open mouth ; and 
as I looked, there came, I thought, a 
change he seemed to swell his face 


became suddenly black, and the features 
seemed to melt and alter and the next 
moment I had sprung to my feet and 
leaped back against the wall, my arm 
raised to shield me from that prodigy, 
my mind submerged in terror. 

" O God ! " I screamed, and " O 
God ! ! again and again ; for there 
before my eyes pale and shaken, and 
half fainting, and groping before him 
with his hands, like a man restored from 
death there stood Henry Jekyll ! 

What he told me in the next hour I 
cannot bring my mind to set on paper. 
I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, 
and my soul sickened at it ; and yet, 
now when that sight has faded from my 
eyes I ask myself if I believe it, and I 
cannot answer. My life is shaken to 


its roots ; sleep has left me ; the dead- 
liest terror sits by me at all hours of the 
day and night ; I feel that my days are 
numbered, and that I must die ; and 
yet I shall die incredulous. As for the 
moral turpitude that man unveiled to 
me, even with tears of penitence, I can- 
not, even in memory, dwell on it with- 
out a start of horror. I will say but 
one thing, Utterson, and that (if you 
can bring your mind to credit it) will be 
'more than enough. The creature who 
crept into my house that night was, 
on Jekyll's own confession, known by 
the name of Hyde and hunted for in 
every corner of the land as the murderer 
of Carew. 




I WAS born in the year 18 to a large 
fortune, endowed besides with excellent 
parts, inclined by nature to industry, 
fond of the respect of the wise and good 
among my fellow-men, and thus, as 
might have been supposed, with every 
guarantee of an honourable and dis- 
tinguished future. And indeed, the 
worst of my faults was a certain im- 
patient gaiety of disposition, such as 
has made the happiness of many, but 
such as I found it hard to reconcile with 
my imperious desire to carry my head 
high, and wear a more than commonly 



grave countenance before the public. 
Hence it came about that I concealed 
my pleasures ; and that when I reached 
years of reflection, and began to look 
round me, and take stock of my pro- 
gress and position in the world, I stood 
already committed to a profound dup- 
licity of life. Many a man would have 
even blazoned such irregularities as I 
was guilty of ; but from the high views 
that I had set before me, I regarded and 
hid them with an almost morbid sense 
of shame. It was thus rather the exact- 
ing nature of my aspirations, than any 
particular degradation in my faults, that 
made me what I was, and, with even a 
deeper trench than in the majority of 
men, severed in me those provinces of 
good and ill which divide and compound 


man's dual nature. In this case, I 
was driven to reflect deeply and in- 
veterately on that hard law of life, which 
lies at the root of religion, and is one of 
the most plentiful springs of distress. 
Though so profound a double-dealer, 
I was in no sense a hypocrite ; both 
sides of me were in dead earnest ; I 
was no more myself when I laid aside 
restraint and plunged in shame, than 
when I laboured, in the eye of day, at 
the furtherance of knowledge or the 
relief of sorrow and suffering. And 

it chanced that the direction of mv 


scientific studies, which led wholly to- 
wards the mystic and the transcendental, 
reacted and shed a strong light on this 
consciousness of the perennial war among 
my members. With every day, and 


from both sides of my intelligence, the 
moral and the intellectual, I thus drew 
steadily nearer to that truth, by whose 
partial discovery I have been doomed to 
such a dreadful shipwreck : that man 
is not truly one, but truly two. I say 
two, because the state of my own know-^ 
ledge does not pass beyond that point. 
Others will follow, others will outstrip 
me on the same lines ; and I hazard 
the guess that man will be ultimately 
known for a mere polity of multifarious, 
incongruous and independent denizens. 
I, for my part, from the nature of my 
life, advanced infallibly in one direction, 
and in one direction only. It was on 
the moral side, and in my own person, 
that I learned to recognise the thorough 
and primitive duality of man ; I saw 


that, of the two natures that contended 
in the field of my consciousness, even if 
I could rightly be said to be either, it 
was only because I was radically both ; 
and from an early date, even before the 
course of my scientific discoveries had 
begun to suggest the most naked pos- 
sibility of such a mifacle, I had learned 
to dwell with pleasure, as a beloved 
daydream, on the thought of the separa- 
tion of these elements. If each, I told 
myself, could but be housed in separate 
identities, life would be relieved of all 
that was unbearable ; the unjust might 
go his way, delivered from the aspira- 
tions and remorse of his more upright 
twin ; and the just could walk stead- 
fastly and securely on his upward path, 
doing the good things in which he found 


his pleasure, and no longer exposed 
to disgrace and penitence by the hands 
of this extraneous evil. It was the curse 
of mankind that these incongruous 
faggots were thus bound together that 
in the agonised womb of consciousness, 
these polar twins should be continu- 
ously struggling. How, then, were 
they dissociated ? 

I was so far in my reflections, when, 
as I have said, a side light began to 
shine upon the subject from the labora- 
tory table. I began to perceive more 
deeply than it has ever yet been stated, 
the trembling immateriality, the mist- 
like transience, of this seemingly so 
solid body in which we walk attired. 
Certain agents I found to have the power 
to shake and to pluck back that fleshly 


vestment, even as a wind might toss the 
curtains of a pavilion. For two good 
reasons, I will not enter deeply into 
this scientific branch of my confession. 
First, because I have been made to 
learn that the doom and burthen of 
our life is bound for ever on man's 
shoulders ; and when the attempt is 
made to cast it off, it but returns upon 
us with more unfamiliar and more 
awful pressure. Second, because, as 
my narrative will make, alas ! too evi- 
dent, my discoveries were incomplete. 
Enough, then, that I not only recog- 
nised my natural body from the mere 
aura and effulgence of certain of the 
powers that made up my spirit, but 
managed to compound a drug by which 
these powers should be dethroned from 

their supremacy, and a second form 

and countenance substituted, none the 
less natural to me because they were 
the expression, and bore the stamp, of 
lower elements in my soul. 

I hesitated long before I put this 
theory to the test of practice. I knew 
well that I risked death ; for any drug 
that so potently controlled and shook 
the very fortress of identity, might by 
the least scruple of an overdose or at the 
least inopportunity in the moment of 
exhibition, utterly blot out that im- 
material tabernacle which I looked to 
it to change. But the temptation of a 
discovery so singular and profound, at 
last overcame the suggestions of alarm. 
I had long since prepared my tincture ; 
I purchased at once, from a firm of 


wholesale chemists, a large quantity of 
a particular salt, which I knew, from 
my experiments, to be the last ingredient 
required ; and, late one accursed night, 
I compounded the elements, watched 
them boil and smoke** together in the 
glass, and when the ebullition had 
subsided, with a strong glow of courage, 
drank off the potion. 

The most racking pangs succeeded : 
a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, 
and a horror of the spirit that cannot be 
exceeded at the hour of birth or deat'h. 
Then these agonies began swiftly to 
subside, and I came to myself as if out 
of a great sickness. There was some- 
thing strange in my sensations, some- 
thing indescribably new, and, from its 
very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt 


younger, lighter, happier in body ; 
within I was conscious of a heady reck- 
lessness, a current of disordered sensual 
images running like a mill race in my 
fancy, a solution of the bonds of obliga- 
tion, an unknown but not an innocent 
freedom of the soul. I knew myself, 
at the first breath of this new life, to be 
more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold 
a slave to my original evil ; and the 
thought, in that moment, braced and 
delighted me like wine. I stretched out 
my hands, exulting in the freshness of 
these sensations ; and in the act, I was 
suddenly aware that I had lost in 

There was no mirror, at that date, in 
my room ; that which stands beside 
me as I write was brought there later on, 


and for the very purpose of those trans- 
formations. The night, however, was 
far gone into the morning the morning, 
black as it was, was nearly ripe for the 
conception of the day the inmates of 
my house were locked in the most 
rigorous hours of slumber ; and I 
determined, flushed as I was with hope 
and triumph, to venture in my new 
shape as far as to my bedroom. I 
crossed the yard, wherein the constella- 
tions looked down upon me, I could 
have thought, with wonder, the first 
creature of that sort that their unsleep- 
ing vigilance had yet disclosed to them ; 
I stole through the corridors, a stranger 
in my own house ; and coming to 
my room, I saw for the first time the 
appearance of Edward Hyde. 


I must here speak by theory alone, 
saying not that which I know, but that 
which I suppose to be most probable. 
The evil side of my nature, to which 
I had now transferred the stamping 
efficacy, was less robust and less 
developed than the good which I had 
just deposed. Again, in the course of 
my life, which had been, after all, 
nine-tenths a life of effort, virtue and 
control, it had been much less exercised 
and much less exhausted. And hence, 
as I think, it came about that Edward 
Hyde was so much smaller, slighter, and 
younger than Henry Jekyll. Even as 
good shone upon the countenance of 
the one, evil was written broadly and 
plainly on the face of the other. Evil 
besides (which I must still believe to be 


the lethal side of man) had left on that 
body an imprint of deformity and 
decay. And yet when I looked upon 
that ugly idol in the glass, I was con- 
scious of no repugnance, rather of a leap 

of welcome. This, too, was myself. It 


seemed natural and human. In my eyes 
it bore a livelier image of the spirit, it 
seemed more express and single, than 
the imperfect and divided countenance 
I had been hitherto accustomed to call 
mine. And in so far I was doubtless 
right. I have observed that when I 
wore the semblance of Edward Hyde, 
none could come near to me at first 
without a visible misgiving of the flesh. 
This, as I take it, was because all human 
beings, as we meet them, are com- 
mingled out of good and evil : and 


Edward Hyde, alone, in the ranks of 
mankind, was pure evil. 

I lingered but a moment at the 
mirror : the second and conclusive 
experiment had yet to be attempted ; 
it yet remained to be seen if I had lost 
my identity beyond redemption and 
must flee before daylight from a house 
that was no longer mine : and hurry- 
ing back to my cabinet, I once more 
prepared and drank the cup, once more 
suffered the pangs of dissolution, and 
came to myself once more with the 
character, the stature, and the face of 
Henry Jekyll. 

That night I had come to the fatal 
cross roads. Had I approached my 
discovery in a more noble spirit, had I 
risked the experiment while under the 


empire of generous or pious aspirations, 
all must have been otherwise, and from 
these agonies of death and birth I had 
come forth an angel instead of a fiend. 
The drug had no discriminating action ; 
it was neither diabolical nor divine ; 
it but shook the doors of the prison- 
house of my disposition ; and, like the 
captives of Philippi, that which stood 
within ran forth. At that time my 
virtue slumbered ; my evil, kept awake 

by ambition, was alert and swift to seize 


the occasion ; and the thing that was 
projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, 
although I had now two characters as 
well as two appearances, one was wholly 
evil, and the other was still the old 
Henry Jekyll, that incongruous com- 
pound of whose reformation and 


improvement I had ' already learned 
to despair. The movement was thus 
wholly toward the worse. 

Even at that time, I had not yet con- 
quered my aversion to the dryness of a 
life of study. I would still be merrily 
disposed at times ; and as my pleasures 
were (to say the least) undignified, and 
I was not only well known and highly 
considered, but growing towards the 
elderly man, this incoherency of my life 
was daily growing more unwelcome. 
It was on this side that my new power 
tempted me until I fell in slavery. I 
had but to drink the cup, to doff at once 
the body of the noted professor, and 
to assume, like a thick cloak, that of 
Edward Hyde. I smiled at the notion ; 
it seemed to me at the time to be 


humorous ; and I made my preparations 
with the most studious care. I took and 
furnished that house in Soho, to which 
Hyde was tracked by the police ; and 
engaged as housekeeper a creature whom 
I well knew to be silent and unscrupu- 
lous. On the other side, I announced 
to my servants that a Mr. Hyde (whom 
I described) was to have full liberty 
and power about my house in the square; 
and, to parry mishaps, I even called and 
made myself a familiar object, in my 
second character. I next drew up that 
will to which you so much objected ; 
so that if anything befell me in the 
person of Dr. Jekyll, I could enter on 
that of Edward Hyde without pecuniary 
loss. And thus fortified, as I supposed, 
on every side, I began to profit by 


the strange immunities of my posi- 

Men have before hired bravos to 
transact their crimes, while their own 
person and reputation sat under shelter. 
I was the first that ever did so for his 
pleasures. I was the first that could 
thus plod in the public eye with a load 
of genial respectability, and in a moment, 
like a schoolboy, strip off these lendings 
and spring headlong into the sea of 
liberty. -But for me, in my impene- 
trable mantle, the safety was complete. 
Think of it I did not even exist ! 
Let me but escape into my laboratory 
door, give me but a second or two to 
mix and swallow the draught that I had 
always standing ready ; and, whatever 
he had done, Edward Hyde would pass 


away like the stain of breath upon a 
mirror ; and there in his stead, quietly 
at home, trimming the midnight lamp 
in his study, a man who could afford 
to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry 

The pleasures which I made haste to 
seek in my disguise were, as I have said, 
undignified ; I would scarce use a 
harder term. But in the hands of 
Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn 
towards the monstrous. When I would 
come back from these excursions, I was 
often plunged into a kind of wonder at 
my vicarious depravity. This familiar 
that I called out of my own soul, and 
sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, 
was a being inherently malign and 
villainous ; his every act and thought 


centred on self ; drinking pleasure with 
bestial avidity from any degree of 
torture to another ; relentless like a 
man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at 
times aghast before the acts ,of Edward 
Hyde ; but the situation was apart 
from ordinary laws, and insidiously 
relaxed the grasp of conscience. It 
was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, 
that was guilty. Jekyll was no worse ; 
he woke again to his good qualities 
seemingly unimpaired ; he would even 
make haste, where it was possible, to 
undo the evil done by Hyde. And thus 
his conscience slumbered. 

Into the details of the infamy at 
which I thus connived (for even now I 
can scarce grant that I committed it) I 
have no design of entering ; I mean 


but to point out the warnings and the 
successive steps with which my chastise- 
ment approached. I met with one 
accident which, as it brought on no con- 
sequence, I shall no more than mention. 
An act of cruelty to a child aroused 
against me the anger of a passer-by, 
whom I recognised the other day in the 
person of your kinsman ; the doctor 
and the chijd's family joined him ; 
there were moments when I feared for 
my life ; and at last, in order to pacify 
their too just resentment, Edward Hyde 
had to bring them to the door, and pay 
them in a cheque drawn in the name of 
Henry Jekyll. But this danger was 
easily eliminated from the future, by 
opening an account at another bank in 
the name of Edward Hyde himself; 


and when, by sloping my own hand 
backwards, I had supplied my double 
with a signature, I thought I sat beyond 
the reach of fate. 

Some two months before the murder 
of Sir Danvers, I had been out for one 
of my adventures, had returned at a 
late hour, and woke the next day in 
bed with somewhat odd sensations. It 
was in vain I looked about me ; in vain 
I saw the decent furniture and tall pro- 
portions of my room in the square ; in 
vain that I recognised the pattern of 
the bed curtains and the design of the 
mahogany frame ; something still kept 
insisting that I was not where I was, 
that I had not wakened where I seemed 
to be, but in the little room in Soho 
where I was accustomed to sleep in the 


body of Edward Hyde. I smiled to 
myself, and, in my psychological way, 
began lazily to inquire into the elements 
of this illusion, occasionally, even as I 
did so, dropping back into a comfort- 
able morning doze. I was still so en- 
gaged when, in one of my more wakeful 
moments, my eye fell upon my hand. 
Now, the hand of Henry Jekyll (as 
you have often remarked) was pro- 
fessional in shape and size ; it was large, 
firm, white and comely. But the hand 
which I now saw, clearly enough, in 
the yellow light of a mid-London morn- 
ing, lying half shut on the bedclothes, 
was lean, corded, knuckly, of a dusky 
pallor, and thickly shaded with a swart 
growth of hair. It was the hand of 
Edward Hyde, 


I must have' stared upon it for near 
half a minute, sunk as I was in the mere 
stupidity of wonder, before terror woke 
up in my breast as sudden and startling 
as the crash of cymbals ; and bounding 
from my bed, I rushed to the mirror. 
At the sight that met my eyes, my 
blood was changed 'into something ex- 
quisitely thin and icy. Yes, I had gone 
to bed Henry Jekyll, I had awakened 
Edward Hyde. How was this to be 
explained ? I asked myself ; and then, 
with another bound of terror how was 
it to be remedied ? It was well on in 
the morning ; the servants were up ; 
all my drugs were in the cabinet a 
long journey, down two pair of stairs, 
through the back passage, across the 
open court and through the anatomical 


theatre, from where I was then standing 
horror-struck. It mi^ht indeed be 
possible to cover my face ; but of what 
use was that, when I was unable to 
conceal the alteration in my stature ? 
And then, with an overpowering sweet- 
ness of relief, it came back upon my 
mind that the servants were already 
used to the coming and going of my 
second self. I had soon dressed, as well 
as I was able, in clothes of my own size : 
had soon passed through the house, 
where Bradshaw stared and drew back 
at seeing Mr. Hyde at such an hour and 
in such a strange array ; and ten minutes 
later, Dr. Jekyll had returned to his own 
shape, and was sitting down, with a 
darkened brow, to make a feint of 


DR.J. H 


Small indeed was my appetite. This 
inexplicable incident, this reversal of my 
previous experience, seemed, like the 
Babylonian finger on the wall, to be 
spelling out the letters of my judgment ; 
and I began to reflect more seriously 
than ever before on the issues and pos- 
sibilities of my double existence. That 
part of me which I had the power of 
projecting had lately been much exer- 
cised and nourished ; it had seemed to 
me of late as though the body of Edward 
Hyde had grown in stature, as though 
(when I wore that form) I were con- 
scious of a more generous tide of blood ; 
and I began to spy a danger that, if this 
were much prolonged, the balance of 
my nature might be permanently over- 
thrown, the power of voluntary change 


be forfeited, and the character of Edward 
Hyde become irrevocably mine. The 
power of the drug had not been always 
equally displayed. Once, very early 
in my career, it had totally failed me ; 
since then I had been obliged on more 
than one occasion to double, and once, 
with infinite risk of death, to treble the 
amount ; and these rare uncertainties 
had cast hitherto the sole shadow on my 
contentment. Now, however, and in 
the light of that morning's accident, I 
was led to remark that whereas, in the 
beginning, the difficulty had been to 
throw off the body of Jekyll, it had of 
late gradually but decidedly transferred 
itself to the other side. All things 
therefore seemed to point to this : that 
I was slowly losing hold of my original 


and better self, and becoming slowly 
incorporated with my second and worse. 
Between these two, I now felt I had 
to choose. My two natures had memory 
in common, but all other faculties were 
most unequally shared between them. 
Jekyll (who was composite) now with 
the most sensitive apprehensions, now 
with a greedy gusto, projected and 
shared in the pleasures and adventures 
of Hyde ; but Hyde was indifferent to 
Jekyll, or but remembered him as the 
mountain bandit remembers the cavern 
in which he conceals himself from 
pursuit. Jekyll had more than a father's 
interest ; Hyde had more than a son's 
indifference. To cast in my lot with 
Jekyll was to die to those appetites which 
I had long secretly indulged and had of 


late begun to pamper. To cast it in 
with Hyde was to die to a thousand 
interests and aspirations, and to become, 
at a blow and for ever, despised and 
friendless. The bargain might appear 
unequal ; but there was still another 
consideration in the scales ; for while 
Jekyll would suffer smartingly in the 
fires of abstinence, Hyde would be not 
even conscious of all that he had lost. 
Strange as my circumstances were, the 
terms of this debate are as old and 
commonplace as man ; much the same 
inducements and alarms cast the die for 
any tempted and trembling sinner ; and 
it fell cfut with me, as it falls with so vast 
a majority of my fellows, that I chose 
the better part, and was found wanting 
in the strength to keep to it. 


Yes, I preferred the elderly and dis- 
contented doctor, surrounded by friends, 
and cherishing honest hopes ; and bade 
a resolute farewell to the liberty, the 
comparative youth, the light step, leap- 
ing pulses and secret pleasures, that I 
had enjoyed in the disguise of Hyde. 
I made this choice perhaps with some 
unconscious reservation, for I neither 
gave up the house in Soho, nor de- 
stroyed the clothes of Edward Hyde, 
which still lay ready in my cabinet. 
For two months, however, I was true 
to my determination'; for two months 
I led a life of such severity as I had never 
before attained to, and enjoyed the 
compensations of an approving con- 
science. But time began at last to 
obliterate the freshness of my alarm ; 


the praises of conscience began to grow 
into a thing of course ; I began to be 
tortured with throes and longings, as 
of Hyde struggling after freedom ; and 
at last, in an hour of moral weakness, I 
once again compounded and swallowed 
the transforming draught. 

I do not suppose that when a drunkard 
reasons with himself upon his vice, he is 
once out of five hundred times affected 
by the dangers that he runs through his 
brutish physical insensibility ; neither 
had I, long as I had considered my 
position, made enough allowance for 
the complete moral insensibility and in- 
sensate readiness to evil, which were the 
leading characters of Edward Hyde. 
Yet it was by these that I was punished. 
My devil had been long caged, he came 


out roaring. I was conscious, even when 
I took the draught, of a more unbridled, 
a more furious propensity to ill. It 
must have been this, I suppose, that 
stirred in my soul that tempest of 
impatience with which I listened to 
the civilities of my unhappy victim ; I 
declare at least, before God, no man 
morally sane could have been guilty of 
that crime upon so pitiful a provoca- 
tion ; and that I struck in no more 
reasonable spirit than that in which a 
sick child may break a plaything. But 
I had voluntarily stripped myself of all 
those balancing instincts by which even 
the worst of us continues to walk with 
some degree of steadiness among tempta- 
tions ; and in my case, to be tempted, 
however slightly, was to fall. 


Instantly the spirit of hell awoke in 
me and raged. With a transport of glee, 


I mauled the unresisting body, tasting 
delight from every blow ; and it was 
not till weariness had begun to succeed 
that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my 

delirium, struck through the heart by a 

cold thrill of terror. A mist dispersed ; 
I saw my life to be forfeit ; and fled 
from the scene of these excesses, at once 
glorying and trembling, my lust of evil 
gratified and stimulated, my love of life 
screwed to the topmost peg. I ran to 
the house in Soho, and (to make assur- 
ance doubly sure) destroyed my papers ; 
thence I set out through the lamplit 
streets, in the same divided ecstasy of 
mind, gloating on my crime, light- 
headedly devising others in the*future, 


and yet still hastening and still hearken- 
ing in my wake for the steps of the 
avenger. Hyde had a song upon his 
lips as he compounded the draught, 
and as he drank it pledged the dead 
man. The pangs of transformation had 
not done tearing him, before Henry 
Jekyll, with streaming tears of gratitude 
and remorse, had fallen upon his knees 
and lifted his clasped hands to God. 
The veil of self-indulgence was rent 
from head to foot, I saw my life as a 
whole : I followed it up from the days 
of childhood, when I had walked with 
my father's hand, and through the 
self-denying toils of my professional 
life, to arrive again and again, with 
the same sense of unreality, at the 
damned horrors of the evening. I could 


have screamed aloud ; I sought with 
tears and prayers to smother down the 
crowd of hideous images and sounds 
with which my memory swarmed against 
me ; and still, between the petitions, 
the ugly face of my iniquity stared into 
my soul. As the acuteness of this 
remorse began to die away, it was suc- 
ceeded by a sense of joy. The problem 
of my conduct was solved. Hyde was 
thenceforth impossible ; whether I 
would or not, I Was now confined to 
the better part of my existence ; and, 
oh, how I rejoiced to think it ! with 
what willing humility I embraced anew 
the restrictions of natural life ! with what 
sincere renunciation I locked the door 
by which I had so often gone and come, 
and ground the key under my heel 1 


The next day came the news that the 
murder had been overlooked, that the 
guilt of Hyde was patent to the world, 
and that the victim was a man high in 
public estimation. It was not only a 
crime, it had been a tragic folly. I 
think I was glad to know it ; I think I 
was glad to have my better impulses 
thus buttressed and guarded by the 
terrors of the scaffold. Jekyll was now 
my city of refuge ; let but Hyde peep 
out an instant, and the hands of all 
men would be raised to take and slay 

I resolved in my future conduct to 
redeem the past ; and I can say with 
honesty that my resolve was fruitful of 
some good. You know yourself how 
earnestly in the last months of last year 


I laboured to relieve suffering ; you 
know that much was done for others, 
and that the days passed quietly, almost 
happily for myself. Nor can I truly 
say that I wearied of this beneficent and 
innocent life ; I think instead that I 
daily enjoyed it more completely ; but 
I was still cursed with my duality of 
purpose ; and as the. first edge of my 
penitence wore off, the lower side of 
me, so long indulged, so recently chained 
down, began to growl for license. Not 
that I dreamed of resuscitating Hyde ; 
the bare idea of that would startle me to 
frenzy : no, it was in my own person 
that I was once more tempted to trifle 
with my conscience ; and it was as an 
ordinary secret sinner that I at last fell 
before the assaults of temptation. 


There comes an end to all things ; 
the most capacious measure is filled at 
last ; and this brief condescension to my 
evil finally destroyed the balance of my 
soul. And yet I was not alarmed ; the 
fall seemed natural, like a return to the 
old days before I had made my dis- 
covery. It was a fine, clear January 
day, wet under foot where the frost had 
melted, but cloudless overhead ; and 
the Regent's Park was full of winter 
chirrupings and sweet with spring 
odours. I sat in the sun on a bench ; 
the animal within me licking the chops 
of memory ; the spiritual side a little 
drowsed, promising subsequent peni- 
tence, but not yet moved to begin. 
After all, I reflected I was like my neigh- 
bours ; and then I smiled, comparing 


myself with other men, comparing 
my active goodwill with the lazy 
cruelty of their neglect. And at the 
very moment of that vainglorious 
thought, a qualm came over me, a 
horrid nausea and the most deadly 
shuddering. These passed away, and 
left me faint ; and then as in its turn 
the faintness subsided, I began to be 
aware of a change in the temper of my 
thoughts, a greater boldness, a con- 
tempt of danger, a solution of the bonds 
of obligation. I looked down ; my 
clothes hung formlessly on my shrunken 
limbs ; the hand that lay on my knee 
was corded and hairy. I was once 
more Edward Hyde. A moment before 
I had been safe of all men's respect, 
wealthy, beloved the cloth laying for 


me in the dining-room at home ; and 
now I was the common quarry of 
mankind, hunted, houseless, a known 
murderer, thrall to the gallows. 

My reason wavered, but it did not 
fail me utterly. I have more than once 
observed that, in my second character, 
my faculties seemed sharpened to a 
point and my spirits more tensely 
elastic ; thus it came about that, where 
Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, 
Hyde rose to the importance of the 
moment. My drugs were in one of 
the presses of my cabinet : how was I 
to reach them ? That was the problem 
that (crushing my temples in my hands) 
I set myself to solve. The laboratory 
door I had closed. If I sought to enter 
by the house, my own servants would 

consign me to the gallows. I saw I 

*~> o 

must employ another hand, and thought 
of Lanyon. How was he to be reached ? 
how persuaded ? Supposing that I 
escaped capture in the streets, how was 
I to make my way into his presence ? 
and how should I, an unknown and 
displeasing visitor, prevail on the famous 
physician to rifle the study of his col- 
league, Dr. Jekyll ? Then I remem- 
bered that of my original character, one 
part remained to me : I could write my 
own hand ; and once I had conceived 
that kindling spark, the way that I must 
follow became lighted up from end to 

Thereupon, I arranged my clothes as 
best I could, and summoning a passing 
hansom, drove to an hotel in Portland 


Street, the name of which I chanced to 
remember. At my appearance (which 
was indeed comical enough, however 
tragic a fate these garments covered) 
the driver could not conceal his mirth. 
I gnashed my teeth upon him with a 
gust of devilish fury ; and the smile 
withered from his face happily for 
him yet more happily for myself, for 
in another instant I had certainly 
dragged him from his perch. At the 
inn, as I entered, I looked about me 
with so black a countenance as made 
the attendants tremble ; not a look did 
they exchange in my presence ; but 
obsequiously took my orders, led me 
to a private room, and brought me 
wherewithal to write. Hyde in danger 
of his life was a creature new to me : 


shaken with inordinate anger, strung to 
the pitch of murder, lusting to inflict 
pain. Yet the creature was astute ; 
mastered his fury with a great effort 
of the will ; composed his two impor- 
tant letters, one to Lanyon and one 
* * 

to Poole ; and, that he might receive 
actual evidence of their being posted, 

sent them out with directions that they 


should be registered. 

Thenceforward, he sat all day over the 
fire in the private room, gnawing his 
nails ; there he dined, sitting alone with 
his fears, the waiter visibly quailing 
before his eye ; and thence, when the 
night was fully come, he set forth in the 
corner of a closed cab, and was driven 
to and fro about the streets of the city. 
He, I say I cannot say, I. That child 


of Hell had nothing human ; nothing 
lived in him but fear and hatred. And 
when at last, thinking the driver had 
begun to grow suspicious, he discharged 
the cab and ventured on foot, attired in 
his misfitting clothes, an object marked 
out for observation, into the midst of 
the nocturnal passengers, these two 
base passions raged within him like a 
tempest. He walked fast, hunted by 
his fears, chattering to himself, skulking 
through the less frequented thorough- 
fares, counting the minutes that still 
divided him from midnight. Once a ' 
woman spoke to him, offering, I think, 
a box of lights. He smote her in the 
face, and she fled. 

When I came to myself at Lanyon's, 
the horror of my old friend perhaps 


affected me somewhat : I do not know ; 
it was at least but a drop in the sea to 


the abhorrence with which I looked 
back upon these hours. A. change had 
come over me. It was no longer the 
fear of the gallows, it was the horror of 
being Hyde that racked me. I received 
Lanyon's condemnation partly in a 
dream ; it was partly in a dream that 
I came home to my own house and got 
into bed. I slept after the prostration 
of the day, with a stringent and profound 
slumber which not even the nightmares 
that wrung me could avail to break. I 
awoke in the morning shaken, weak- 
ened, but refreshed. I still hated and 
feared the thought of the brute that 
slept within me, and I had not of course 
forgotten the appalling dangers of the 


day before ; but I was once more at 
home, in my own house and close to my 
drugs ; and gratitude for my escape 
shone so strong in my soul that it 
almost rivalled the brightness of hope. 
I was stepping leisurely across the 
court after breakfast, drinking the chill 
of the air with pleasure, when I was 
seized again with those indescribable 
sensations that heralded the change ; 
and I had but the time to gain the 
shelter of my cabinet, before I was once 
again raging and freezing with the 
passions of Hyde. It took on this 
occasion a double dose to recall me to 
myself ; and, alas ! six hours after, as 
I sat looking sadly in the fire, the pangs 
returned, and the drug had to be re- 
administered. In short, from that day 

forth it seemed only by a great effort 

as of gymnastics, and only under the 
immediate stimulation of the drug, that 
I was able to wear the countenance of 
Jekyll. At all hours of the day and 
night I would be taken with the pre- 
monitory shudder ;. above all, if I slept, 
or even dozed for a moment in my chair, 
it was always as Hyde that I awakened. 
Under the strain of this continually 
impending doom and by the sleepless- 
ness to which I now condemned myself, 
ay, even beyond what I had thought 
possible to man, I became, in my own 
person, a creature eaten up and emptied 
by fever, languidly weak both in body 
and mind, and solely occupied by one 
thought : the horror of my other self. 
But when I slept, or when the virtue of 


the medicine wore off, I would leap 
almost without transition (for the pangs 
of transformation grew daily less 
marked) into the possession of a fancy 
brimming with images of terror, a soul 
boiling with causeless hatreds, and a 
body that seemed not strong enough to 
contain the raging energies of life. The 
powers of Hyde seemed to have grown 
with the sickliness of Jeykll. And cer- 
tainly the hate that now divided them 
was equal on each side. With Jekyll, 
it was a thing of vital instinct. He 
had now seen the full deformity of that 
creature that shared with him some 
of the phenomena of consciousness, and 
was co-heir with him to death : and 
beyond these links of community, which 
in themselves made the most poignant 


part of his distress, he thought of Hyde, 
for all his energy of life, as of something 
not only hellish but inorganic. This 
was the shocking thing ; that the slime 
of the pit seemed to utter cries and 
voices ; that the amorphous dust gestic- 
ulated and sinned ; that what was dead, 
and had no shape, should usurp the 
offices of life. And this again, that that 

insurgent horror was knit to him closer 
than a wife, closer than an eye ; lay 
caged in his flesh, where he heard it 
mutter and felt it struggle to be born ; 
and at every hour of weakness, and in 
the confidence of slumber, prevailed 
against him, and deposed him out of 
life. The hatred of Hyde for Jekyll 
was of a different order. His terror of 
the gallows drove him continually to 


commit temporary suicide, and return 
to his subordinate station of a part 
instead of a person ; but he loathed the 
necessity, he loathed the despondency 
into which Jekyll was now fallen, and 
he resented the dislike with which he 
was himself regarded. Hence the ape- 
like tricks that he would play me, 
scrawling in my own hand blasphemies 
on the pages of my books, burning the 
letters and destroying the portrait of 
my father ; and indeed, had it not been 
for his fear of death, he would long ago 
have ruined himself in order to involve 
me in the ruin. But his love of life is 
wonderful ; I go further : I, who sicken 
and freeze at the mere thought of him, 
wherr I recall the abjection and passion 
of this attachment, and when I know 


how he fears my power to cut him off 
by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity 

It is useless, and the time awfully fails 
me, to prolong this description ; no one 
has ever suffered such torments, let that 
suffice ; and yet even to these, habit 
brought no, not alleviation but a 
certain callousness of soul, a certain 
acquiescence of despair ; and my pun- 
ishment mijht have gone on for years, 
but for the last calamity which has now 
fallen, and which has finally severed 
me from my own face and nature. My 
provision of the salt, which had never 
been renewed since the date of the first 
experiment, began to run low. I sent 
out for a fresh supply, and mixed the 
draught ; the ebullition followed, and 


the first change of colour, not the 
second ; I drank it, and it was without 
efficiency. You will learn from Poole 
how I have had London ransacked ; it 
was in vain ; and I am now persuaded 
that my first supply was impure, and 
that it was that unknown impurity which 
lent efficacy to the draught. 

About a week has passed, and I am 
now finishing this statement under the 
influence of the last of the old powders. 
This, then, is the last time, short of a 
miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think 
his own thoughts or see his own 
face (now how sadly altered !) in the 
glass. Nor must I delay too long to 
bring my writing to an end ; for if my 
narrative has hitherto escaped destruc- 
tion, it has been by a combination of 


great prudence and great good luck. 
Should the throes of change take me in 
the act of writing it, Hyde will tear it 
in pieces ; but if some time shall have 
elapsed after I have laid it by, his 
wonderful selfishness and circumscrip- 
tion to the moment will probably save 
it once again from the action of his 
apelike spite. And indeed the doom 
that is closing on us both has already 
changed and crushed him. Half an 
hour from now, when I shall again and 
for ever reindue that hated personality, 
I know how I shall sit shuddering and 
weeping in my chair, or continue, with 
the most strained and fearstruck ecstasy 
of listening, to pace up and down this 
room (my last earthly refuge) and give 
ear to every sound of menace. Will 


Hyde die upon the scaffold ? or will he 
find the courage to release himself at 
the last moment ? God knows ; I am 
careless ; this is my true hour of death, 
and what is to follow concerns another 
than myself. Here, then, as I lay down 
the pen, and proceed to seal up my 
confession, I bring the life of that un- 
happy Henry Jekyll to an end. 

PR 5485 .Al 1900 


Stevenson, Robert Louis, 

Dr. Jeky 1 1 and Mr. Hyde 

AYF-2263 (mcab)